Through Gryvon's Eyes
by Nat K. Watson
Summary: The whole way of the unusual relationship between Gryvon and Ashka from the moment of their meeting. Described from Gryvon's perspective, in separated small stories.
1. Story 1 First meeting

**Through Gryvon's Eyes…**

**Rated:** K+, T.

**Disclaimer:** All rights belong to Mark Shirrefs and John Thomson.

**Characters:** Gryvon/Ashka

**Warning:** This is the author's view of the possible events long before the first season and later (what was left behind the scenes). In my interpretation of the story I decided to make characters' age difference 12 years. You have a right to disagree with it or consider it as AU. All the reviews and comments are more than welcomed))

**Story 1. First meeting. **

**T**his year summer was very hot and dry, not like the one peasants wanted to have. People were in panic, doing their best in order to save the harvest which had been endangered. All the fields were constantly watered. Spellbinders that came to villages regularly had to calm the locals and listen to their complaints. And speaking about little Gryvon - he was usually sent to the fields no less than his fellows. Or maybe even more often.

"The fact that you're summoner's son doesn't mean anything, - his mother usually said keeping an eye on her husband, - no one's gonna be idle in our family".

Aaron just laughed at these words of Malie, looking at his son runs past their house screaming and leading a group of happy boys and girls. He had nothing against his wife's parenting methods. She's wise and sensible; his own child will never be lazy. But along with it aaron understood something else.

The fact that he had already been being the Clayhill summoner for a year gave him some hope and a reason for pleasant thoughts. The summoner is an important person, he has the power. The summoner stand out of the crowd in a way, he's like a step higher than other people, he and people that are close to him. It means that he and his family have a different social status, they've got more rights and possibilities.

Thinking about it Aaron hoped that one day his post can become Gryvon's lucky star and provide a way to the different life, opened for few only. Aaron dreamed that one fine day his son would be able to enter the Spellbinder's world…

This is why the boy stood out of his fellows, it was inevitable. Aaron did his best, sharing the knowledge he had with his son. He tried to teach him how to read, but Gryvon was useless here. Sighing, Aaron decided to start from the other side and started telling the boy about Spellbinders, their incredible magic abilities, great power and ancient knowledge. Took him to the Summoning Town showing how the ships were landing. Gryvon had an inaccessible treasure among his toys – old broken Eyestone, solicited by Aaron. Gryvon knew his father would never allow to show or to give it to the other children, so late at nights he took this fantastic sparkling casket and admired it. He admired the delicate exquisite ornament showing two snakes entwined against the sun, admired the mysterious mechanisms hidden inside, under the plate with the same ornament. His father had a similar casket but it was working, Gryvon saw it. Sometimes the man opened it, and then the voices were heard from the mechanisms – male or female, some names, orders, names of places. Once, being very insolent, Gryvon replaced the Eyestones wanting to play with a real one. And of course it didn't work. Spellbinders alarmed, hearing unfamiliar voice, Aaron got the problems at full scale and Gryvon got even more – for some time it was quite uncomfortable to sit down. But the worst thing was that father threatened to take the second Eyestone. The one that didn't work.

"Do it one more time – and you will never get your hand near it!" – he shouted, waving with a shining casket next to his son's nose.

It goes without saying that Gryvon had no more wish to play the rogue. Or actually it was hidden deep in his soul. Who knows, perhaps once Gryvon would have tried to reach the real Eyestone once again, forgetting the possible consequences and severe punishment. Yes, it could have happened, but one lucky chance changed everything.

/

Summoner's son remembered his ninth Birthday forever. Firstly, because this day the weather transformed for a change, it was cool and rained since morning. And secondly, because that very day his life was changed by chance.

Nobody worked that day because of heavy dark grey clouds and the rain poured prom them. Gryvon, however, thought that it was a nice idea to run to the forest with his friends or to the river. Competing, of course. But his mother recognized son's cunning intentions just in time, smacked him with her apron and forced to stay at home.

"I don't want you to look like a piglet, Gryvon! – she exclaimed. - Spellbinders may come today, it will be a shame if you meet them being smeared!"

There was nothing to object. Aaron nodded strictly, seeing his son's pleading look.

"Your mum's right, Gryvon, no forest races today"

Malie started laying the table. Suddenly somewhere outside a sound of horses' hooves was heard.

"They're coming!" – Aaron said, standing up and going to the porch. Gryvon followed him. Malie started drying the clean plates for the second time.

Looking from behind his father's back, the boy saw two horsemen, racing to the house. Finally they stopped the horses and dismounted. Both of them were wearing long black cloaks, but the cloak of one horseman was decorated with wide red ribbon. Gryvon's eyes became wide with sudden realization.

"It's an honour for us, Regent, - Aaron bowed observing his son to do the same, - please, come inside".

The man in black-and-red cloak put off the hood nodding favorably. Gryvon recognized Regent Gareth, the head of Council of Regents. He looked quite young but Gryvon could hardly tell how old could that man be. Wheat-coloured mustache, small beard, long hair and a proud posture of the ruler. Even the shapeless cloak couldn't hide the dignity nearly radiated by the Spellbinder. Smiling, Gareth was going to enter the house but then his companion that was in the hood for all this time spoke:

"Spellbinder, may I stay outside?"

Gryvon realized it was a girl. Gareth turned around and raised an eyebrow, surprised. He looked at the almost hidden under the hood face.

"You sure?"

Silence.

"All right, do whatever you want".

At last the family entered the house, inviting the Regent to the table. Gryvon followed his parents but then he turned around for a moment. A person in the cloak stood at the porch, still and silent.

/

Sitting in the corner, Gryvon played with the Eyestone, following with his finger the wonderful ornament on the cover. One ray, second, third, head of a snake… he didn't participate in family supper, just took a peeled carrot from under his mother's elbow. Of course his father didn't allow to play with the Eyestone when strangers were at home. However, Gareth could be considered as an exemption, the Spellbinders were aware that there was such a toy in summoner's family.

They talked basically about the weather and the harvest. The Regent that had been going to Rivertown at first was persuaded by the spouses to wait out the rain. And then, as if suddenly remembering, they started thanking him for the sent down water, so desired after the long drought.

"We always try to do our best, Aaron, - Gareth said, - but seriously, we were just lucky this time. Nobody thought the drought would be this long".

"If the rain goes longer it will be wonderful, - Malie smiled, - but anyway, perhaps your Apprentice should go inside? I feel like a bad housewife, she will be soaked to the skin there".

Gareth shook his head.

"You are a good housewife, Malie, your husband should be proud of you. But Ashka will not go inside anyway. No offense, but she has something unpleasant associated with this house".

"Why?" – Malie asked but Aaron had already pulled her sleeve.

"This is her own business, - Gareth answered, - I can only say it has nothing to do with your family. And speaking about Apprentices…, - the man turned his head looking at the silent Gryvon in the corner searchingly, - how old is your son you said?"

"He's nine since this day, - the woman said, - Gryvon, come here".

The boy stood up and reached the table, bowing.

"Nine is just the age. Can you read?" – Gareth asked him.

"A little".

"Write?"

"No, Spellbinder".

"Not bad. Have you seen the Tower?"

"Yes".

"Tell me, Gryvon, do you know about Spellbinders?"

"Yes, - the boy nodded, - you live in a castle, you wear powersuits and you can fly. And you also have the Eyestone".

"Correct, - the man smiled, - but it seems you have an Eyestone too?"

"It's not real, I can't hear anything in there".

"Would you like to have a real one?"

Gryvon looked cautiously at his father, remembering the story. Understanding that look perfectly, Gareth calmed the boy.

"No-no, I assure you, this time your father doesn't have to punish you. This is my idea. So what you say?"

Gryvon looked at his father once again. Aaron nodded.

"I'd love to, I think", - the boy said.

"And would you like to visit the castle?"

Gryvon's eyes nearly met the hairline.

"Are you serious? I mean, - he stopped, - I'm sorry, Spellbinder".

"It's all right, - Gareth smiled. Despite the terrible weather he was in a good mood, - well, soon we have Sun Holiday. And if you want you can go to our castle".

Shocked, Malie and Aaron looked at each other. Gryvon gasped after such a wonderful surprise. But then he looked at his mother and father.

"And what about my parents? – he asked the Spellbinder. - Won't they come?"

"It's not necessary, - Malie said modestly, before they could continue, - you can tell us everything about it later, Gryvon, all right?"

The boy nodded after some hesitation.

"This is it, - Gareth concluded, standing up, - in that case we'll meet again. And not just once, I suppose".

"You mean…", - Aaron started.

The Spellbinder nodded.

"I won't promise you anything now, but there's something in this boy. We'll see in time".

Malie blushed, looking at her husband happily. Aaron smiled proudly.

"Well, I have to go, - the Regent said, taking his cloak, - I suppose the rain will finish soon. Thank you for a supper, Malie. You don't need to accompany me".

But they did, despite his words. They tried, at least, like with the most honored guest and a messenger with good news. Gryvon followed the man, looking how the guests prepare for a long road. The Regent's companion who stood near the house for the whole time, mounted her horse quickly. Her cloak flew open a little. Gryvon noticed blue-and-white Apprentice uniform. He also noticed a thick ginger braid nearly elbow-length.

Spurring their horses, two guests went to Rivertown…


	2. Story 2 Sun Holiday

**Story 2. Sun Holiday. **

"**S**o is it really as beautiful as you say?"

"Oh, you have no idea, mum!" – Gryvon told excitedly forgetting his cooled soup. "Everything's so fantastic, so shining! So… Spellbinding!"

The next morning after the holiday Gryvon's parents were listening attentively to their son's report about being at the castle. Of course, everything was wonderful, everything was great, very beautiful and apparently very tasty, because Gryvon wasn't going to have supper. Instead he was running and hoping through the house, nearly waking the nearest neighbors and colliding with two clay pots (luckily, both were empty) and shouting out the fragments of his impressions: "…there's such a huge fireplace!", "so many sweets…", "the stairs, I wish you'd saw the stairs!".

Aaron, who was able to catch one of the pots, didn't scold his son but caught his freshly washed shirt during one of the turns.

"Hey, kid, that's enough. Let's make a deal – you calm down and go to bed. In the morning your mother and I are to listen to everything you say".

Of course, Gryvon, overwhelmed with emotions, said he didn't want to sleep. But Aaron's raised eyebrow and "such a lovely day shouldn't be spoiled with naughtiness" cooled boy's enthusiasm.

Anyway he went to bed, but couldn't sleep for a long time, holding the shining Eyestone and repeating the day events mentally, coming back to the castle and doing every step once again…

… During the morning Gryvon wasn't himself, he either ran near the house looking at the both sides of the road and listening to every single sound, or pestered his mum with endless pleas to give him his Sunday clothes. Knowing that there's too much time until the evening, when Spellbinders come and before that moment Gryvon was able to be hooked, to fight, to become dirty, to wrinkle or to tear the clothes plenty of times, Malie wasn't in a hurry with giving it. That is why Gryvon played up and pestered even more.

"You'd better go to the river and help your father with fishing", - the woman offered nearly giving up.

"I don't want!" – Gryvon said stubbornly. "The Spellbinders may come and I won't be here".

"You think about the Spellbinders too much", - Malie sighed. "There's plenty of time".

They really had plenty of time and it passed slowly. When Malie, tired of trying to busy Gryvon with something, understood that the day turns into the evening slowly, she gave in to the stubbornness and happy Gryvon put on a grey-blue shirt, pants of the same colour and a long knitted vest.

And then suddenly time went faster as if it decided to have pity on everybody. In the distance the horse was heard and then a rider in the powersuit appeared. It was an unknown young man with curly black hair and the broad smile.

"Good evening, Spellbinder", - Malie and her son bowed.

"Greetings, Malie", - the rider nodded and looked at the boy. "You are Gryvon, right?"

"Yes, Spellbinder" – he answered.

"If so, Gryvon, I am here to take you to the castle", - the man smiled again. "Give me your hand".

With one movement he pulled the boy up to the horseback and showed the leather ledge of the saddle.

"Hold on to the pommel". – He then turned to Malie. "We'll come back at night".

The way to the castle didn't take too much time. The Spellbinder knew the road and rode at gallop. But even during that short period of time curios Gryvon was able to ask many questions and hear many new things. Lans, the black-haired man, answered him willingly and told about himself. Yes, he's been being a Spellbinder for a long time, yes, he pilots the flying ship and it is very interesting. No, it's not difficult. Yes, the castle is great and he, Gryvon, is to like it for sure.

"Why do you call this day the Sun Holiday?" – the boy asked at last.

"Because today is the longest day of the year, - the Spellbinder answered, - the sun nearly doesn't sleep and the night is the shortest one. Well, here's the castle".

The trees stepped back suddenly and Gryvon was able to see the castle for the first time – the place where Spellbinders and Regents lived. A place that nearly became a legendary one within the village stories.

Seeing the Spellbinder on the spur bridge the guards bowed and opened the gates. Gryvon turned his head to both sides while they were riding through the stone arch on the way to the courtyard. Isn't it a dream and he did really come to the castle? Could he really be so lucky and get such a smile of fortune?

The courtyard was big and entangled. Everywhere he could see green branch plants covering grey stone walls, stairs, towers, narrow high windows. And people were everywhere – Spellbinders, Apprentices, guards and servants. Apparently the day was and exemption when the first and the second ones didn't were traditional two-colored uniform but had a freedom of choice. Women wore long dresses, men – dark pants, high boots and short embroidered jackets.

Lans dismounted and helped Gryvon to get down. A guard came closer immediately, taking the horse.

"To the castle?"

"To the castle", - Gryvon nodded happily, following the Spellbinder through the courtyard. Then they saw Gareth walking towards them quickly.

"Oh, Lans, Gryvon, at last! I waited for you. Come with me, Gryvon, I'll show you the castle and then I have to talk to Lukan and Tark. Lans, - he addressed the black-haired Spellbinder, - leave the powersuit in your chambers and join us. And order the gurds, please, to close the gates".

Bowing, Lans left.

"Who are Lukan and Tark?" – Gryvon asked, trying to keep up with quickly walking Spellbinder and to see as much as possible at the same time.

"They are Regents like me, - Gareth clarified, - we three are the Council of Regents which rules this country".

"Why three?" – The boy asked.

"Because our opinions may vary and together we may find perfect solutions, with which everyone will be happy.

"And how one can become a Regent?"

Gareth laughed.

"For it you should work hard and try to become deserving".

That very moment the stairs and corridors were left behind, both entered the great hall, rich and magnificent. The cleanness was the first thought of Gryvon. Some inaccessible cleanness. Of course, Malie, his mother, cleaned the house and the boy got used to consider his house as a model one. But here he saw a different cleanness. It was great and unreal. And the room entered by the Spellbinder and the summoner's son was exactly the same – great and unreal one. Gryvon's jaw almost dropped. The floor, the walls, the ceiling which went so high above it seemed impossible – everything was shining and everywhere he looked he saw some glitter. The walls decorations were shining, the long wooden tables along one of the walls were shining, the dishes on these tables were shining, so shining it was difficult to look at. People were walking everywhere, reflected in the clean shining floor. And these people seemed so coruscating – their clothes, faces, walking. Spellbinders and their Apprentices. There, in Clayhill, they had been so distant, so private. People from some other world. And tonight… tonight he himself was entering this world and still couldn't believe he was so lucky.

"So what do you think?" – the Regent asked, looking down at the boy.

"It… It makes me crazy!" – Gryvon exclaimed outright, looking at the man passing by with a shining cup in his hand. "Oh, sorry, Spellbinder".

Gareth laughed.

"I was waiting for something like this. Don't be afraid, Gryvon, everything will be all right. Now I have to go and see the Regents. It's not a secret; we are going to talk about you. And I suppose we can change your future".

"Really?" – Gryvon shouted nearly jumping.

Gareth nodded.

"Of course you are very young and there are many things you do not know. But if they don't make you an Apprentice right now, I'm sure, you will be allowed to visit the castle from time to time".

"Great! – Gryvon exclaimed. - Regent, does it mean that I can be a Spellbinder one day?"

"I am sure once you will, - Gareth confirmed, - right, and now I leave. But before that we have to find someone. Oh, there she is. Ashka, come here", - he called someone, looking above.

Familiar name… The boy looked where Regent was looking and saw a young girl standing at the top of the stairs. Seeing them, she started walking down. She had a complex hairstyle, and Gryvon, looking at a lot of intertwined braids realized suddenly this was the Apprentice who came with Gareth to their house.

Tonight the girl Gareth called Ashka was in a dark green dress with high collar and long sleeves. Gryvon, who could view her properly for the first time, noticed to things. Firstly, that dress suited Regent's Apprentice. And secondly, the Apprentice was extraordinarily beautiful. Of course, Gryvon was only nine and not too capricious with beauty definitions. There had been many beautiful girls and women in Clayhill. His mum, for example. Who dared to disagree? Or Carah, the old healer's daughter. What was it everyone said about her? "A marriageable girl"?

He could name some more examples but the girl coming downstairs suddenly made him forget them all. She was rather tall and very graceful. Pale skin that looked even paler because of the dress, thin nose, sharp cheekbones. A thick dark-ginger hair plait on her shoulder seemed to heavy for a high neck. The beauty of this girl was irregular, wild and pristine. And one thing could be said for sure – the ones who saw her could never forget her.

"You called me, Spellbinder?" – Ashka reached them, bowing her head in greeting.

"Oh yes, - Gareth nodded, - Ashka, this is Gryvon, the boy I told you about, the son of Clayhill summoner. Gryvon, this is Ashka, my Apprentice".

Gryvon bowed quickly, looking at the beauty with admiration. The girl apparently wasn't impressed by the meeting at all, she viewed the boy from head to toes and then looked at the Spellbinder.

"And what does it mean?"

"It means I finally have to see Tark and Lukan, which were kind and allowed me to be busy with urgent issues during the holiday, - Gareth pushed Gryvon lightly to Ashka, - that is why I go and talk to them and during this time you look after our little friend, right?"

The Apprentice tried to save her face but it seemed she was horrified.

"Me? To look after a kid?" – her voice trembled, cause she could hardly imagine Gareth to be so treacherous.

"Well, Ashka, he's already nine, - Gareth smiled, - he's quite mature and won't give you any problems, I am sure. Right, Gryvon?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically, looking at the Regent and his Apprentice.

"Then see you".

With these words Gareth turned and went upstairs quickly, before he could get the possible objections. Gryvon looked at Ashka again, smiling happily. However, she wasn't as happy as he. Knitting her thin eyebrows, the girl viewed Gryvon as if trying to understand what it is and how to behave with it.

"What a punishment, - the Apprentice mumbled, then her skills and composure won and she addressed the boy, - tell me, do you want to drink?"

"No, thank you", - Gryvon answered politely, still admiring her.

"Perhaps you want to eat something?"

"Yes, please", - the boy said willingly.

The Apprentice led him to the wall where some massive wooden chairs were placed and then went to the table.

"Tell me if you need something else, - she said coming back with a lovely shining plate where there were two small ruddy rolls, a pear and an apple, - soon the fire will be lit up, the hall will be very warm".

Gareth, leaving for a talk with Regents, didn't say how long it is going to be. However, such a situation was apparently provided for, more and more people appeared in the hall, they walked, talked and laughed, treated themselves with various refreshments. Then suddenly a music was heard from some nearest room and people, wandering through the hall slowly, started moving strictly and synchronically, making the pairs. Dancing started.

Gryvon, who saw before that day only rural holidays, looked at the dancers with interest. It was something absolutely different from Clayhill roundelays and fast dancing. Here it looked much more difficult. Pairs followed one another very slowly and accurately, and always in time, as if they were able to read the thoughts. From time to time some dancers were reaching the tables, the Spellbinders were passing by the two near the wall, looking at the boy with amusement and asking where he's from. Gryvon, who got so many emotions from the evening and who considered a girl next to him almost as a fairy, stood up immediately for another polite bow and greetings, making the Spellbinders smile.

Ashka who had to answer all the questions, didn't share his delight. Fiddling a cup with some water, she looked at the dancers, following the figures with her eyes and listening to the music. It was obvious she longed for joining the pairs but the Regent's order was an obstacle.

"Beautiful Apprentice, would you like to dance with me?" – someone's clear voice was heard near them. A tall short-haired man reached them and stretched out his hand.

"I'd love to, Emerick, - the girl pursed her lips gracefully, - but it seems I'm to be a nanny tonight. Gareth asked me to look after the boy".

Emerick looked at the silent Gryvon next to her and laughed.

"Well, I suppose one dance won't give anything serious. He looks as a real serious man!"

Ashka looked at the "serious man" cautiously.

"Listen, will you be able to sit hear for a while, not to do anything and not to run anywhere?"

"Sure, Apprentice!" – Gryvon exclaimed outright, clutching the chair with his hands and showing that he's going to be very obedient.

Happy that it was so easy, Ashka put her hand onto Emerick's palm and went to the center of the room. Gryvon was left near the wall, viewing the dance and the dark-green dress, appearing among other bright dresses. She moved gracefully and smoothly, like the man next to her.

"Gryvon! – someone called him from the stairs. - oh, here you are! Come on, I'll introduce you to the Regents".

Gareth moved downstairs quickly.

"And where is Ashka? – surprised, he looked at the empty chairs and then at the dancing pairs. - Oh, I see. Well, I'll give it to her after we finish. Are you all right?"

A nod.

"Then come with me".

Gryvon, running two steps at a time, followed the Regent.

"Spellbinder, don't punish her, please".

"What?" – Gareth stopped, shocked, almost losing his footing at smooth stairs.

"I…, - Gryvon hesitated, - I wanted to ask you not to punish your Apprentice, Spellbinder. She was always next to me and left nearly before you came".

He was shocked by his own insolence and bravery. And for a moment he felt sorry these words were said. But it was too late to feel sorry any longer.

Regent looked at the boy thoughtfully.

"We'll see", - he said at last.

"And what did the Regents say? Did they allow you to become an Apprentice?"

"Aha. But they told me I have to wait and grow up a little", - Gryvon answered, finally remembering the soup.

Malie and Aaron were sitting next to him, waiting for the story to be finished. Gryvon put the empty plate on the table, smiling happily. Yesterday, when Gareth and he went to the room where two other Regents were waiting, the talk was almost finished. And bothe the men – dark-haired Lukan and grey-haired Tark were rather tired of it. The future of a possible Apprentice had been discussed for a while.

"Gareth, it seemed we have already decided, - Lukan wiped off his forehead tiredly, - you can not teach him, somebody else should do it".

"The boy is too young", - Tark said stubbornly.

"But he's a perfect candidate", - Gareth intervened, - "in Westfield the children are too small, and there are the girls only. There are some youths in Easthill but they are not good for being Apprentices. So think what we do. It is easier to train and teach the boy".

"Of course, and it's you who should know it", - for Gryvon it seemed that a wipe was heard in Lukan's voice.

Gareth sighed, standing behind Gryvon.

"Dear Lukan, I understand what it's all about".

"Really?" – the Regent raised an eyebrow.

'Yes. And I am aware of my responsibility for this boy to his father, the summoner of Clayhill. You said about the person who could teach him? Right, in a year or two Ashka is to become a Spellbinder, so he'll be her Apprentice".

Lukan and Tark looked at each other.

"Are you sure this is the right decision? – the grey-haired Regent asked. - Ashka is impatient and impulsive, she will hardly pay the necessary attention to the boy".

"In this case, - Gareth threw up his hands, - we make circles. You see there are two ways: either me, or Ashka. Time will show everything, I say it again. After her initiation I will be free and able either to concentrate on country issues properly, or two take a new Apprentice".

"I'd prefer the first option, - Lukan interrupted, - Gareth, during some last years you've always been playing a role of a good old Spellbinder. You become sentimental and flippant".

"Really? And I hoped so much no one will notice, - Gareth played along to him, sighing artistically, - being serious once again, I ask you about an immediate decision, Regents. The boy's family will be waiting for the answer. And besides, - with these words he pattered Gryvon on his shoulder, - I think the boy likes Ashka. Isn't it so, Gryvon?" – he looked down at the boy.

"She… she's very beautiful, - Gryvon said, trying to stand Regent's look but blushing, - she's like a fairy".

Lukan smirked, rolling his eyes. Tark laughed silently.

"You heard everything, Regents", - Gareth said imperturbably, looking at them.

"All right, all right, we got it, - Lukan nodded, - let it be so. We'll see if the Apprentice can be the master. But it's your responsibility, Gareth. And anyway, Tark is right, the boy's very young. He's allowed to visit the castle but he has to wait for his initiation…

"…So it's true? You will live in the castle?" – Malie asked one more time, not able to believe her son will really become an Apprentice.

"Yes, - the boy answered calmly, as if he was speaking about some silly things and not about all his dreams coming true, - I'm allowed to visit the castle. But I have to wait a little before I am a true Apprentice…"


	3. Story 3 The Apprentice starts his way

**Story 3. The Apprentice starts his way. **

**G**ryvon had been right – he had to wait in order to become an Apprentice. And he was ready for this, waiting humbly or not so for the moment when people from the castle will come and he had to say goodbye to the village. But he wasn't ready for the length of his waiting. For the fact that he had to wait more than a year…

Gryvon had been thinking during that time he had to wait. He thought about the castle as he remembered it, magnificent and full of different secret knowledge. He tought about the highest tower which provided the sparks, about three Regents that discussed his future, about his own fate. And of course, he thought about the ginger beauty he saw just once, whose Apprentice he was going to be…

When the moment had come he wasn't ready. The moment just was there. The day wasn't gloomy and rainy, but calm and sunny. Gryvon was not nine but already ten, in any other matters the truth corresponded to the expectations.

Malie hugged him and kissed the crown of his head ("Mum, stop it, I'm not a child!"), Aaron hugged him and wished good luck, telling to behave and study properly ("Dad, I'm not a fool!"), the neighboring children stood a little further – boys and girls, his yesterday game and tricks companions. Gryvon was doing everything quickly but calmly and accurately, knowingly, savoring every moment and showing that he's not nervous at all. A person within an inch of becoming the Apprentice shouldn't behave like some stupid ragamuffin.

Ashka that came to take him to the castle was absolutely silent while he was saying goodbyes. She was sitting in the saddle and pretended to view the reins. Today the girl was not in a blue-white uniform but a black habit with beautiful shining powersuit and a short black cloak. Gryvon realized that there was an initiation during the last year. Now she was a Spellbinder.

And then they went to the castle slowly leaving Clayhill behind. While living there Gryvon had a chance to sit in the saddle and now he was as proud and pleased as it was possible in his situation.

"Will you stop dreaming and start watching the road?' – Ashka interrupted his idyll, - "A horse doesn't like a sleepy rider, it can bolt".

Gryvon, coming back at once, clutched the horse's sides with his feet and was nearly dropped down.

"My disaster, - Ashka mumbled through her teeth, - if you don't sleep riding and don't jerk like you've caught a fire bolt, we have a chance to reach the castle at night!"

She herself was sitting in the saddle with outrageous grace, holding the reins between her fingers and having her back absolutely straight. Her feet in high leather boots didn't clutch the horse's sides, but gave a light touch only when the road had a turn. The wind moved her black cloak folds, and her ginger braid seemed to laugh at him.

"Gryvon! – Ashka called him. - Are you waiting for the Marauders here or we do go to the castle?"

When they had finally reached the castle, Gryvon got another proof of the fact his social status was different from now on. Servants came to the riders, bowing.

"Leave the horse and follow me", - the girl said shortly, giving the reins to the tall fat guard in leather uniform.

Gryvon was led to the big beautiful room. During the last year he had already visited the castle for some times and now he wasn't afraid of the huge halls, stairs and long corridors. In the room high windows decorated with stained glass were opened, letting the cool wind in. The fire had already been started and cast the glimpses on wooden walls covered with exquisite carving. There was a bed near the wall, a dark-blue bedcover with Spellbinders symbol – two interwined snakes near the sun - was lying there. Next to the bed there were massive cabinets, also decorated with carving. There were a table and some chairs with high backs near the fireplace. Not so long ago Gryvon considered his house as a big one, but now he realized that this exact room can outshine all the advantages of his previous accommodation.

"This is where you will live, - Ashka showed at the room the boy observed, - there's a bathroom behind this door. If you need something you can call the servants or the guards".

"How should I do it?" – Gryvon asked immediately.

"It's very simple, you should just open the door, - Ashka answered calmly, - if there's nobody there, shout loudly. Now listen carefully, from this certain day you are my Apprentice. Your uniform is already here, in this cabinet, - she showed another small door near the bed he didn't notice at first, - keep in mind that everybody in the castle wears either the uniform, or some ceremonial clothes if it is a special occasion".

"I have it", - Gryvon nodded happily to the clothes his mum prepared.

Ashka wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"A ceremonial clothes is something, for what our tailor is to take your measurement today. And THIS, - she indexed the boy's clothes, - is something I don't want to see on you ever again. Got it?"

Dumbfounded, Gryvon nodded.

"You make progress, - Ashka said, - I continue: here is your room, you will live and study here, in the castle. I am to teach you, and Regent Gareth whom you already know was so kind that agreed to help me sometimes. My room is in the other wing of the castle. You are free to visit me, ask questions if you need help. But Holly Regents, don't you dare burst there if you're sad, bored, afraid of the thunderstorm or had a nightmare. Then I won't answer for myself, understand?"

Shocked and nearly hiccupping, Gryvon licked his lips.

"I have nightmares very seldom, - he started slowly, - I'm not afraid of the thunderstorm and I will hardly be sad or bored, yes?"

Ginger Spellbinder looked at him with some interest.

"Not bad, Apprentice. Not bad at all. Well, the next point: everyone in this castle has a name, but you should keep them just in mind. You call me and the others "Spellbinder", nothing else. The Council of The Regents members also deserve the honorific according to their rank. You may address someone by a name only if the person has a lower rank or is equal to you. In this case I mean other Apprentices. Questions?"

"And what about the guards? – the boy asked. - The guards and the servants? I should know them too?"

A mocking smile touched Ashka's lips.

"Gryvon, servants are just servants, they are here for your convenience and wish fulfillment. You do them a too great honour with it. And you'd better not think about such silly things anymore, - she said almost tenderly, putting a hand on his shoulder, - remember, Apprentice, you're better than them".

Then she left, giving Gryvon a chance to change and get used to the new place. He turned in front of the big morror, looking at his reflection in lovely new uniform with a Spellbinders symbol. He was really happy with this sight, repeating mentally a tender phrase She said: "You're better than them".


	4. Story 4 History lesson

**Story 4. History lesson. **

"**S**o let's start. What was the name of the Supreme Spellbinder that established the Order?"

"Larius the Great".

"Right. Who were the first Regents of this country?"

"His sons – Aaron and Alegas".

"When did the Council of Regents take its present form consisting of three members?"

"About one and a half centuries ago".

Ashka was holding an octagonal velvet-bound book in her hands and was walking through the room slowly while Gryvon, who was sitting at the table, diligently tried to refresh the information he got during the history lessons. Of course he did read, of course he learned, but it didn't make him more self-confident…

"Whom do we call the enemies of Spellbinders?"

"Marauders – fugitive criminals and barbarians, living in the forests, attacking peasants and taking our contribution".

"The first woman that became a Regent?"

"Carah the Generous".

"Whom was she set by?"

Gryvon became silent suddenly, hesitating. Ashka turned the page and stopped looking at the quite Apprentice's back.

"Gryvon, who set Carah as a Regent?"

Silence. Only the fuss became even more evident. Ashka felt some trick and came closer.

"Hey, look at me!"

"Gryvon met the girl's eyes with an honest look.

"Did you prepare for the examination?"

"Yes, Spellbinder".

"Then answer the question".

Silence once again. Viewing the Apprentice from head to toes, Ashka noticed some dark spots on a sweater sleeve.

"Show me your hands".

"But Spellbinder…"

"Don't you dare argue with me!"

Sighing, Gryvon stretched out his hands.

"You know what I mean. Roll up your sleeves".

He had to obey. There were quick notes on both Gryvon's wrists, containing the dates and names. Apparently, the ink hadn't dried out, so the uniform was stained and noticed by the Spellbinder.

"Rascal boy! – Ashka smacked his hands for several times. - You tried to play such a silly trick on me? It isn't going to work out, Gryvon. You either study hard, or come back to Clayhill!"

"Forgive me, Spellbinder, forgive me! – the boy exclaimed, kneeling and blushing. - I won't do it again, believe me!"

Ashka, viewing him with a displeased glance, crossed the room and opened the door.

"Bring me some hot water! – she ordered to the passing by servants, then turned to her Apprentice. - We are to continue the examination after you wash your hands!"


	5. Story 5 Geography lesson

**Story 5. Geography lesson. **

"**T**he biggest river of our country is Valaphire, here you can see its direction, - Ashka told, pointing at the map with her finger, - its main tributary is Aiden, look, it goes near the castle and… Gryvon, are you listening to me?"

The summoner's son became alert at once and took a serous look.

"Ha? Sure, Spellbinder, of course I am listening".

Frowning, Ashka lowered her arm.

"And what was I speaking about right now?"

Gryvon scanned the map with his anxious look.

"Err… Something about the river… I think".

"Gryvon! – Ashka stamped her foot angrily. - Concentrate, at last! – the she spoke much calmer. - How can one live in a country he knows nothing about? It's not even wrong, it's dangerous. The thing that distinguishes us, Spellbinders, from untaught peasants is knowledge. The knowledge in different spheres and also in geography. We should always be aware of something happening next to us, or the living will become some sort of surviving".

"I understand it, Spellbinder, - Gryvon said, yawning, - but I am tired. Please, may we continue tomorrow? Or start the chemistry? It is more interesting!"

"What a charming sincerity! – Ashka said acidly. - You didn't even try to hide it. And speaking about chemistry, - she looked at the sill cautiously, from which a servant was trying for the second day to rub some strange white spots away, - after your previous experiment we won't come back to it too soon. And in the dungeon only. And now forget the reagents and focus on geography!"

Sighing, Gryvon looked at the roll with an unfinished lecture…


	6. Story 6 Powersuit part one

**Story 6. Powersuit (part one). **

"**A**nd what now, Spellbinder?"

"Nothing, in the morning I will take new power stones and leave these two for a charging. And before that we are to have a supper".

Gryvon, sad at first, took heart and tried to keep up with Ashka who had always been some steps ahead. It was almost evening, they went to the Spellbinder's room but then the Eyestone she was holding started:

"Ashka, this is Lans. Come to the garden, please, I need to talk to you".

"Is it so urgent?" – the girl asked, getting a better grip on the powersuit.

"Yes, very urgent".

Spellbinder sighed.

"All right, I'll be there soon, - with these words she closed the Eyestone and turned to Gryvon, - take the powersuit to my room".

"Me?" – the boy asked in surprise.

"Do I have some other Apprentices? – Ashka rolled her eyes. - Yes, you. Take them and put on the hanger in the wall carefully. And order to the servants to bring the supper. And Gryvon, - she stopped the boy, catching his sleeve, - if you damage a single wire…"

"I got it, Spellbinder, - bowing, Gryvon ran to the castle doors. He was very surprised, but it was a pleasant surprise, caused by the trust situation he faced so suddenly. During the previous three years he had lived in the castle Ashka had never permitted him to touch her powersuit. Not even touch – she never allowed him to come too close to them. And now – such a smile of fortune, such a "promotion". Not just to come closer, not just to touch, but to bring to her room! There was a reason to be happy.

But Gryvon was happy as long as he moved upstairs, because then he realized he was holding something extremely heavy. Holly Regents, how much does the powersuit has in weight! And how is one able to wear them? Aged Spellbinders, he saw in the castle every day, didn't bother Gryvon. Most of them were tall strong men; the boy was sure, even with no powersuits they could make the Marauders feel scared. But women! But Ashka! Without the powersuit, in a black habit and a red tunic, belted on a slender waist, she seemed not just graceful. She seemed too fragile for such a weight. However, the Spellbinder was able not just move freely in the powersuit, but to run through the forest quickly, to rush up- or downstairs in the castle and to ride a horse like it took no efforts at all. How could she do all this?

Looking at the arrogantly shining copper bracelets, Gryvon realized he had to learn and learn in order to achieve such results…


	7. Story 7 Dance lesson

**Story 7. Dance lesson. **

"**T**his figure is called "the promenade". Man and woman move through the hall, along the dance line, while other pairs are dancing on the right and on the left. The pairs that are close to the start point follow you. And one-two, three-four…"

Putting one hand behind his back, Gryvon squeezed Ashka's palm with the other one and made a step forward. For him these dance lessons seemed the most terrible and frightful tortures of all the other lessons. The things that had looked so simple were actually quite difficult and needed as much concentration, he thought, as chemistry or history. These dances he sometimes saw in his dreams after the Sun Holiday, scared him during the first lesson, nearly making leave the room.

"This is not the commoners dancing next to a bonfire, - Ashka scolded during another figure, when Gryvon lost his balance and nearly fell to the wooden floor, - do your best, Apprentice, it's time to cope with this knowledge".

Indeed, whether he wanted or not, it was time. Fourteen years – the age when young Apprentices could start attending the holidays and dance. That is why Ashka clenched her teeth and had to explain the dancing details to her ward. The ward had understood the basic steps more or less, but he couldn't cope with figures and different fine points. That is why the lessons became longer, and Spellbinder's patience was at the end.

"Gryvon, what's happening to you? – Ashka asked after another Apprentice's failure to make a conversion next to the furthest wall. - You're absentminded, tone-deaf, you don't like the dance or is it everything at once?"

"Oh, don't put such a pressure on boy, - Gareth interfered, entering the room. During some previous lessons he had been watching the dancers' progress and tried to look serious that was rather hard sometimes. So the man, giving them some excuses, rushed to perform his duties.

"Regent, weren't you going to the library?" – it seemed his visit took Ashka by surprise.

"My duties may wait a little, - smiling, Gareth came closer to Ashka and bowed, - let's show Gryvon how it looks like. Where did you stop? Turns and going round?"

They moved forward, making the steps synchronically and listening to quite tune Gareth sang. Step, step, hop, turn, step, turn… Gryvon was standing near the wall, biting his lip and feeling like an idiot. Why can't he move like this? Why does he stumble at every step? Why do his feet slide apart? Why does his ginger fairy scold him? Why anyone in this castle, perhaps even the least important guard is able to dance and he is not?

"Gryvon, you're better than them, - Ashka said when the demonstration was over as if she could read his thoughts, - you can do everything. But, Holly Regents, prove it! Don't be a child!"

That moment something blew inside him, something hot and strong. A child? What a nonsense! He's not a child, he is already fourteen! And yes, he can prove if it is so necessary!

"You're better than them" – his magic phrase that always sounded hypnotically. Ashka never said what "them" Gryvon is and can be better than. But the youth felt that it isn't important. The fact of approval, this lenient hint of some hidden qualities of his – this was everything he needed.

Nodding instead of a long ceremonial bow, he squeezed Spellbinder's hand and pulled her closer, turning to start the promenade. Step, turn, step-step, hop, turn, step… Hands changing, conversion. The order of movements that Ashka had been tired of, trying to explain, was clear as never before. Gryvon realized this was the mysterious dance pattern he had heard about. He realized that now he wasn't envying the tall handsome Emerick or even Gareth. That moment Ashka wasn't a furious impatient Spellbinder, she was a beautiful ginger fairy from his childhood. Again. That moment Gryvon was envying himself.

Holding hands, they made a turn, standing face to face.

"Very good! – Gareth who had watched the whole dance clapped his hands with approval. - Now I can see there's a progress".

With his eyes twinkling, he closed the door, saying nothing else. Gryvon, blushing after such an unexpected praise, looked at Ashka.

"When you're angry more sense can be got out of you, - she said smiling, - the lesson is over".


	8. Story 8 Try to understand

**Story 8. Try to understand. **

**A**t first life in the castle seemed amazing for Gryvon, then it was impossibly difficult and later it was just regular and habitual, casing no problems. Nearly every day he had some lessons – history, horse riding, chemistry, astronomy. Nearly every lesson Gryvon was punished for some mistakes and misdeed. Most of them were the results of his inattention, absentmindedness or the lack of patience. But some other happened as another try to cheat and crib. Ashka caught him on such things with enviable constancy and smacked her Apprentice's hands. Or she could slap his head. However, she always knew her strength, that's why the punishment was only a measure of discipline.

In his dreams Gryvon saw himself as a powerful and great Spellbinder, but in reality he still couldn't gain much for such qualities. His inability to do something made him angry. But it seemed Ashka didn't consider it as an obstacle.

"It's not stupidity that is your problem. It's a simple lack of patience, Apprentice, - she said sometimes, when Gryvon was angry after another misdeed, - now calm down and use your energy for something important".

Sometimes he longed for making a caustic remark about these words of hers. To exclaim that he does try, that he has his limits. That he can be tired. But these excuses were too boring for the Spellbinder; she would never listen to them. And that made Gryvon even angrier. Watching Ashka rides a horse though the forest, flies the ship, controls her Apprentice's chemical experiments in the evenings, he never stopped wondering. How can she have so much strength? Is she never tired at all? Sometimes the youth thought about the Spellbinder, comparing her to the mechanisms he knew. Perhaps she's like the powersuit? And she has some powercore too?

Ashka's explosive temperament made her even more similar to the powersuit. Once, Gryvon didn't even remember what day it was, he asked her why she refused to enter his house long ago. Despite the Regent's words, Gryvon thought that it was his family fault.

Hearing the Apprentice's question, Ashka took him by the collar and pushed out of her room, restricting to come closer to her that day. Gryvon, standing near the door, straightened his uniform and thought that he got off easy actually. However, the next mourning, when she invited him for a breakfast to her room, the theme was restarted.

"When you had lived in Easthill it was my family's house. Long ago. They died. The rest of it is not your business", - taking a handful of cherries from the dish she went to the window, showing that the theme is finished forever. Gryvon sighed sympathetically, looking at her silhouette. So this is it, how terrible… Ashka turned around, as if she felt him looking.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for me or sympathize, Apprentice. I don't need these emotions from anyone, especially from you".

Gryvon blushed, looking at his plate. It was always like this. Like she was pouring cold water over him! And no system, no warnings, no justified expectations.

It was stupid to expect something from Ashka, he realized it long ago. And it was stupid to try to understand her. What was she thinking about? What was she guided by? In most situations he could find the answers to these questions. And speaking about expectations – every time Ashka preferred to make a surprise and act in an unexpected way. And Holly Regents, every time she did it successfully.

During one of their evening horse riding walks there happened an accident. Gryvon slipped at the rocky bank of Aiden and sprained his ankle. Ashka caught his hand just in time and looked at the Eyestone going under the water with sorrow. Their only communication tool that evening.

"We'd better have taken two of them, - she mumbled putting Gryvon's hand over her shoulder, - come on, we have to move to a flat area".

They had to spend the night in a forest, because it was getting dark rather fast and they had no chance to call the castle for help without an Eyestone. Sitting near the fire, Gryvon was holding his aching foot and looking at the flame. He would have been really happy to go back to the castle, to his room he got used to see, but it was too difficult and painful to fling into the saddle, even with Ashka's help.

"Thank you for not breaking it, - the Spellbinder scolded, tearing her cloak apart and bandaging his foot, - or else I'm sure, all the Marauders would have come here".

Gryvon shivered thinking about the Marauders and looked at the trees with fright. He was too young for wearing the powersuit. And the one that Ashka was wearing was their only protection in case of a danger. Nearly the half of night the summoner's son shivered, falling asleep or waking up, hearing some distant rustling. Ashka who hadn't been bothered by the night in a forest and the field life, was sleeping near the tree, with one leg pulled to her. Her posture seemed relaxed, but the youth knew better than anybody that in a case of a danger this relaxation will turn into the readiness to attack.

Suddenly curiosity surged up within Gryvon. Despite the threateningly shining powersuit Ashka didn't look fearsome right now. At first glance, at least. The splendid ginger braid, disheveled a little, was lying on her shoulder… Cursing his curiosity and trying not to imagine the possible results, Gryvon raised himself with an elbow. He wished to touch her shining hair so much, to run his hand through the locks he was thinking about for so long.

Trying to make as less noise as possible, the youth sat up accurately, avoiding the movements of the injured foot. Of course it was wrong, it was dangerous and he behaved like a silly boy. But the temptation was already too big to stop. Gryvon pulled himself forward, carefully, as he thought, putting a part of his weight on his hands. She was sitting not too far, some more spurts and he'll do it. Making a pause after every movement, Gryvon looked around as if he was scared one could catch him at the crime scene. After that he had been looking at the Spellbinder for several seconds, checking whether she woke up or not. One more spurt… at last, he reached her.

Trembling with delight, Gryvon looked at that treasure and then touched Spellbinder's hair carefully, removing his hand quickly. Just in case. Nothing happened, nothing blew up. And nobody killed him. And the hair… the hair was really splendid. Both in appearance and to the touch. Thick, downy, so impossibly soft… Even at night, when he couldn't see that unique copper shade, Ashka's hair was wonderful. Feeling braver, Gryvon run his finger along the braid and suddenly realized the Spellbinder herself is watching him closely. And for a long time, it seemed.

"Dear Apprentice, even some forest boar would have moved quieter than you, - she said, still looking at him. That very moment Gryvon wished to be anywhere but here. Blushing, he crawled backward, but suddenly hit his injured foot and nearly howled. Ashka, watching his maneuver, raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Next time you will think. And you'd better not do this thing again".

Falling onto his cloak, Gryvon turned his back to her and closed his eyes. Never before, never in his life he felt such a complete and hopeless idiot. However, it seemed that Ashka wanted to consolidate the success – and in future she gave him such a chance for many times…


	9. Story 9 Powersuit part two

**Story 9. Powersuit (part two). **

"**I**sn't it dangerous?"

"Gryvon, we've already discussed it. The powersuit is absolutely safe for a person wearing it. It is your opponent you should fear of".

Helping the youth to put his hands into the copper bracelets, Ashka observed the result. Fifteen-year old Gryvon was standing in front of her, afraid to move in the heavy Spellbinder powersuit he somehow put on.

"Every time you put the powersuit on do it as accurately as possible, - the Spellbinder instructed him, - even if there's no time. Because if you damage any platen or a wire – the whole mechanism will be uncontrolled. And the Spellbinder in the broken powersuit is useless".

"And if the powerstones are depleted?" – Gryvon asked.

"In this case you have to take the new powerstones. And to charge the used ones. Got it?"

Gryvon, confused by the heaviness and the working mechanism of the powersuit, nodded. Ashka fixed one of the two wooden shields on his forearm and took the other one for her.

"The shoulders are the weakest part of the body, - she said, going further from her Apprentice, - but as far as we use the shields during the duels you may get nothing but a hit, a kind of a push. Of course if you listened to the theory and do everything right".

The words sounded not without sarcasm. Gryvon got a better grip on his shield. He'd got used to such a tone of his teacher.

"Anyway, try to dodge properly, especially to the left, - Ashka said at last, - let's start".

They made their powersuits work nearly at the same time, putting the plates on the wrists together. Before that day Gryvon had already worn it and even fired the powerbolts, so he was calm now, seeing the lightning in his palm. He aimed, preparing.

"Attack", - Ashka ordered.

He fired, not too abruptly and not too masterfully.

"So this is it, Gryvon? – Ashka made a step to the side gracefully, not leaving the circle drawn on the ground, - didn't you have enough sleep?"

"Sorry, Spellbinder", - he said quickly, aiming for a new attack.

This time the powerbolt looked better, flying quite close to the Spellbinder's hand. But she ignored it, moving her shoulder a little.

"Now this is something, - she said with approval, moving her hand back, - my turn!"

Her powerbolt was professional and technically perfect. Covering himself with the shield, Gryvon was nearly knocked off. Then there was a second powerbolt, almost searing his ear.

"Gryvon, don't sleep! – Ashka shouted. - nobody will dodge for you!"

He met the third powerbolt with his shield, parrying a blow. Then fired. Ashka passed it, turning her body. He liked this fight. Without a pause he threw his palm forward one more time. The powerbolt pushed Ashka in the chest. The Spellbinder gave a start but kept her balance.

"I'm sorry, Spellbinder!" – Gryvon exclaimed, trying to reach her but was stopped with a hand.

"We have a duel, silly boy, - Ashka said imperturbably, - stop apologizing and attack!"

He fired a powerbolt that was destroyed by the shield in Spellbinder's hand. Gryvon tried to parry the next blow just like this but didn't catch the right moment. He felt a push making him give a start. Stepping backwards in order to keep his balance, Gryvon crossed the circle line.

"You've lost, Apprentice, - Ashka commented his movement, - your opponent wins".

Tired, Gryvon removed the shield from his hand.

"What you think you are doing? – Spellbinder asked with surprise. - We haven't finished. One duel is lost, the next one comes. To the circle, now!"


	10. Story 10 Hair

**Story 10. Hair. **

**T**raditionally, going to Ashka's room for a lesson one day, Gryvon didn't think about time. However, he wasn't late, he came earlier than usual. Books and new rolls of parchments for a lecture were waiting for him. Ashka herself stood near the window, combing her hair. Hearing the youth's footsteps, she didn't turn around still looking through the window.

"Come in and sit down, we'll start soon", - she said quite harshly.

Gryvon sat down in a comfy chair, looking at the all books' pages at once. History. Of course. Now he had to find out what was it he learned the last time. Repeating mentally periodisation of Regents reign before the Darkness and after it, he raised his eyes. Ashka was still standing near the window. Her posture hasn't changed. Only her bended hand jerked strangely.

"What is it? – the Spellbinder mumbled and turned around, feeling his glance. - What's up? Have you brushed up the whole material?"

Instead of looking into the book Gryvon was still observing the Spellbinder. Something wasn't right with her, something made him alert. Her body, turned to the widow, hid her hands and shoulders from him almost completely…

"What happened, Spellbinder?" – the youth asked eventually, forgetting he had been asked too.

"It's not your business, - Ashka answered sternly, turning from him once again. Her hand jerked as before, - come on!"

Gryvon, whose suspicion grew with every second, stood up carefully. Whom was she talking to? And what was happening?

"Spellbinder, - he called again, - is everything all right?"

"No, it's not, - Ashka snapped, - everything is very "not all right"! And I can't start the lesson!"

She turned to the youth slowly. Gryvon hadn't understood at first what was it/ but then he saw. A wooden hairbrush he'd seen in Ashka's hand for so many times was hanging in Spellbinder's hair now. And it seemed rather problematic to put it off from there because Ashka looked at him, pulling at the lock vainly.

"Gryvon, don't stand there with your mouth opened! – she exclaimed. - Help me!"

Reaching her slowly, the youth took the hairbrush carefully. At first glance the situation seemed quite simple, but looking closely Gryvon saw that the hair were entangled very much. He had no idea how it happened and why with this brush. But asking right now could be not the best decision.

Carefully he moved his fingers through Spellbinder's locks and tried to put the hair off of the brush teeth but Ashka screamed.

"Ah! Can't you be more careful?"

"Excuse me, Spellbinder, - the youth said, continuing his maneuver in a more delicate way, - perhaps you'd better call for your servants? For girls it would be easier…"

"The girls you are talking about, - Ashka interrupted, - are so left-handed! And if you have to face this task you'd better not shift it onto someone else".

Gryvon just sighed, continuing his hairbrush manipulations. One might think he'd been asked! Ashka had never asked for anything, sometimes he was sure she even had no idea what "to ask" means. But on the other hand he had never been able to reject her orders too. Maybe sometimes she had been almost rude and harsh, maybe sometimes (and it happened quite often) he could hardly understand what was happening inside her head. But this certain situation… Gryvon knew what Ashka's hair meant for her. Something she was proud of, something admired by other women of the castle. And if in such a delicate moment Gryvon was chosen, not the servants, that was really something.

"It seems we're to postpone the lesson for some distant moment, - pouting her lips Ashka folded her arms on her chest, - Gryvon, is it so bad you're still romping?"

"I do my best, Spellbinder, - the youth exclaimed, releasing the lock hair by hair, - I can not do it faster because of the hair length and, let's call it the amount of work".

Ashka blushed, looking at her Apprentice's hands sternly.

"All right, it should be finished or else we'll spend the whole evening here!" – pushing Gryvon aside, she reached for the old scissors on the sill. Two long blades shined in sunlight…

"What are you doing?" – Gryvon screamed, horrified, and tried to stop her, forgetting the properties. But it was already too late, - with a light knock the wooden hairbrush and the long lock fell to the floor. Gryvon, almost hypnotized, looked at that lock, looking like a lithesome copper snake coiled up in a delicate halfring. He couldn't believe it really happened…

"This is it, - Ashka said imperturbably, not noticing or pretending she didn't notice her Apprentice's shock, - I should have done it long ago".

They both looked at the hair and the brush on the floor for about a minute. Then the Spellbinder observed Gryvon.

"Holly Regents, you look as if there was a revolution in the country and the Marauders are ruling now! What a funeral face?"

Silent, the youth raised his eyes.

"Gryvon, be a man! – the Spellbinder said harshly. It seemed her green eyes were piercing his soul. - Some situations need thoughtful strategies. In other ones you should act immediately and with no regrets. Now pull yourself together, - she stretched out the ill-fated scissors to him, - and trim the hair".

The youth gave a start, taking the scissors, as if they were made of white-hot metal.

"Are you punishing me for something?" – he murmured, lowering his head.

Ashka smiled.

"Consider it as a tenacity test".

"In the name of Regents, why?" – Gryvon wanted to exclaim. He wanted to throw the scissors to the floor and hear the disenchanting crash. He wanted to shake Ashka and say that this is wrong, that this is the situation when one should think. And that she's cruel and unfair making him trim now. But of course he had no enough bravery for such a thing. Clutching a lock between his fingers he flapped with the scissors. Took another one… Copper snakes fell to the floor, silently, sadly slipping down the tunic on Spellbinder's shoulders. Gryvon tried to concentrate on their length, making sure each lock was on the same level. He felt as if his childhood fairytale in which he had been living the whole time, was slipping through his fingers.

The door to the room opened, two servants went inside.

"At last! – Ashka exclaimed. - When my Apprentice finishes dawdling, clean everything. And quick!"

This is it – "dawdling". Not trimming, not working, but dawdling. Feeling as a real barbarian, Gryvon observed the result.

"Is it all right or you want shorter?" – he asked trying to imitate Ashka's caustic intonations.

The Spellbinder went to the bathroom where there was a big mirror. Her hair, getting such an unexpected freedom, became shorter and curling a little. Strange, but Ashka, touching her new hairstyle looked even more beautiful.

"This is fine, Apprentice, - she smiled wryly, - perhaps, I should add the trimming to your duties?"

Horrified, Gryvon stepped back, nearly hitting the wall. He'd rather not have done it at all. The Spellbinder came closer, as if she felt his mood.

"Sentimentality doesn't suit you, Gryvon, - she touched his chin and looked in the eye, - it suits no one, actually. And now let's go back to something you came here for".

Gryvon, almost forgetting about his lessons, went into the room. The servants worked quite quick but he had time to lift a delicate ginger lock from the floor that they hand't noticed. Despite the words about sentimentality he had been keeping this lock for a long time. But it was until the next argument during another lesson, unfortunately. After that in a fit of a temper Gryvon threw the hair into the fire. And felt very sorry later…


	11. Story 11 Affections

**Story 11. Affections. **

**T**he older Gryvon became, the more he was paying attention to the girls. At the age of sixteen he realized for the first time that Nathia, an Apprentice like him, was quite nice. And not just as an Apprentice or a companion, but as a girl.

Nathia matched her name absolutely – she was small, light, almost transparent, with big dark blue eyes. Sometimes Gryvon was sure that too strong wind could blow her off of the ground. And even the powersuit that seemed too oversized for her wouldn't help.

During the free time Nathia's hobbies consisted basically of dreaming and thinking.

"I could write poems if my father didn't determine my future, - she said to Gryvon once, looking somewhere beyond the clouds, - you know it is so exciting and heartfelt".

Gryvon never took poems seriously and had no idea how it was possible. Well, he could try and imagine them to be exciting and heartfelt. Of course if his imagination is strong enough. But the fact that Nathia could write poems if she wasn't the Apprentice seemed too doubtful. After these years he still remembered Clayhill and knew what the rural life is. This is work, hard work, constantly unhappy peasants, and constant problems with something – with crop, with hay, with damaged roof. Nathia didn't fit into such a lifestyle.

"How do you see yourself in such a situation? – giving up, he asked her once. - I mean if you wrote poems. Is there any time for it in a village?"

"Oh, Gryvon, you're so materially-minded! – the girl sighed. - You absolutely have no thirst for beautiful things".

He decided not to argue. Eventually it was her who started the poems topic, so all the objections were up to her. Nathia looked at him sadly and left, her light blond curls flapping. The youth didn't understand that, why, when he said something clever she won the battle anyway? What's wrong with this girl?

During the moments when they had no arguments about something beautiful, Gryvon and Nathia were able to coexist peacefully, walking in the castle garden or riding their horses through the forest. Nathia was able to hold her tongue and keep silent, and Gryvon, being next to her also did it quite successfully. They understood each other, sometimes being silent for an hour or longer.

After his seventeenth birthday Gryvon was allowed to go to the villages alone, without escorting Spellbinders or Regents. From now on Gryvon came home more often; he could also go to Rivertown and control collecting of tribute for the castle residents. He could also watch the order at the market place, where the peasants were making swaps. Looking at the bright procession of the locals, who were putting the goods on the tables, Gryvon realized he was a stranger here. Once boys and girls didn't run to the river, screaming, but helped their parents. Nobody bothered him with a friendly embrace, obeying the Untouchability law. And to tell the truth, Gryvon was very happy about that. What would he speak about to them? About the life in the castle? About the Apprentice's weekdays and lessons? About usage of the powersuit? It can hardly be described in several words, one should live through this all, not just hear about it. One should be on his place. Looking at his father standing aside and talking to the Spellbinders with the help of an Eyestone, Gryvon understood he would never give his place to anyone else. Why should he? He was chosen, so this is it. He got this place, not Cara next door, not Galat, this quiet boy, not Riana that was just some years younger. Oh, here she is, bu the way…

A not very tall girl, with a constant ponytail, in green shorts. She was putting the vests and shirts for children on a table. There were scratches on both her knees. Gryvon smirked. A try to climb the tree or a hunting? Riana had strict parents, but somewhere deep in her heart a romp was waiting for the right time. Sometimes she was releasing this romp, but mostly she lived as a model daughter. Gryvon observed the girl one more time, from head to toes. Very nice, and a lovely smile. When did she grow up? Or did he visit the village so long ago?

He took a sip of water from a flask on the table and continued writing down the list of the brought things. There's nothing to talk to Riana about. Boring. He could already imagine her future, - she'll start keeping the house herself, will be someone's model wife. What a nightmare. She'll be thinking just of the stocks for winter.

On the other hand, there was Nathia. This delicate creature he wanted to take away from the duel circle. It wasn't a proper place for her! And generally speaking she was just wrong. What Spellbinder will she become? Seeing the Marauders she'll just faint.

Waiting for the ink to dry up, Gryvon rolled up the parchment. Nathia and Riana. Riana and Nathia… It was good with the first one, it could be safely and simple with the second one, if he tried to do something. They were just like two sides of a powerstone and he happened to be in the center.

Gryvon took a new roll and dipped the quill into ink. There was also Ashka… Ashka, whose way was stupid to stand on. Ashka who was much older than him; who couldn't guarantee anything good, safe or especially simple. This ginger hurricane, which blew off everything, seared, burnt and destroyed.

At first Gryvon considered her as a wonderful fairy. Looking at her shining locks and wide open green eyes he remembered the stories Malie told him years ago. Something about the forest spirits that could be seen only by the luckiest person. Little Gryvon was very proud of himself. In his opinion the Spellbinder was like the character of these stories. And it meant he was the luckiest one…

Then he grew up, then she taught him. A tender fairy had a faerie temperament and was able to change her mood several times a day. Gryvon was always bewildered by such a game of contrasts and he could almost never guess the right frequency and hit the right mood. Once he had compared Ashka to the powersuit, but later he realized the comparison wasn't proper. Technically the powersuit was rather predictable. He knew that it shouldn't get wet, it has to be put on and cleaned very carefully. Speaking about Ashka – she was impossible to predict. It couldn't be boring, sometimes it was problematic just to stay next to her. Gryvon tried to understand this phenomenon and realized with horror that he likes it.

A year or two ago they had a breakfast together. They were discussing something all the castle residents were speaking about recently – a necessity to go to the new mine where a magnetic rocks output could be more successful. They had a light argument about whether it is useless or not to stay in the old mine and then kept silent. Gryvon moved his finger across his plate, making two entwined snakes out of bread crumbs. Then he raised his eyes. Putting one hand on a table, Ashka was looking out of the window thoughtfully. Sunlight was dancing on her hair, making the locks lighter than usual. Her pale skin also had an amazing golden shade now. The corners of her mouth made a slight smile… That moment Gryvon felt sorry he wasn't able to draw and portray this wonder. The Spellbinder looked really adorable.

Breaking the magical silence, she looked at her Apprentice.

"Gryvon, stop dreaming. If you finished you may go. And don't forget to put on the powersuit!"

Sighing he stood up and bowed. It was always like this! However, it was stupid to expect that even with a chance and a parchment the Apprentice would be allowed to portray her…

Somehow he finished the second roll and looked at the market place. Peasants, happy with their swaps, examined their new dresses and small house stuff. The guards were putting the Spellbinders tribute into big carts.

Shaking his head, Gryvon stood up. It seems his fate is to stand at the fork, between three affections of his. Between simple diligent accuracy, exalted sentimental tenderness and unbridled intoxicating danger. Knowing he's doomed, Gryvon understood what road he will choose. Why he liked and wanted just to be with Her – he had no idea. This road promised nothing – no hopes, no prospects, but attracted him like a huge magnet…


	12. Story 12 Family affairs

**Story 12. Family affairs. **

"**A**pprentice Gryvon, I've got a letter for you!"

Gryvon turned around. The voice caught him in one of the many castle passages, always dark, unpleasant and cold because of no fireplace. A guard was running to the youth, holding a crumpled and once white envelope. Stopping near Gryvon, the man gave him the message.

"What… What does it mean? – Gryvon asked, looking at the dirty envelope. - Why the letter looks like this? Did anyone read it?" – he took out the small sheet of paper folded twice. The letter from his father.

"We… we do not know, Apprentice, - the guard answered, - when we found the bag with papers in the forest, it looked like this. We brought everything from there to the castle".

"What do you mean "we found"? - Gryvon asked, confused, reading the lines. Aaron wrote that Malie had been very ill but she didn't want him to know for a long time. However, despite his wife's will, the summoner did it himself in the letter. - Why you found it? And where?"

"In the forest, - the guard repeated, - it seems that the Marauders that had attacked the cart took the bag with them. But later they saw there was nothing but the papers and the letters and threw it away".

Gryvon's vision darkened.

"But the Marauders… attacked the cart almost a week ago", - he said in words, raising his eyes.

"Yes, Apprentice", - the man nodded, still not getting it.

The youth gritted his teeth.

"And all this time… ALL THIS TIME the bag was in the forest&!" – he shouted out, turning around and running through the passage. The heart was beating desperately. There was just one thought: "Almost a week… Almost a week…" Holly Regents, how much time he lost!

Spellbinders and Apprentices passed by in white-red spots, looking in bewilderment at the running youth with a letter in his hand. But right now Gryvon didn't care and paid no attention to the rules and clarification of whom he pushed and how many times. Even if it was Lukan!

Running up over two stairs, he turned round the corner, crossed the last corridor and reached the door opening it in one movement. He wished Ashka to be there, not somewhere else as usual…

She was, indeed. It seems she had been taking a bath.

"Gryvon? We have no lessons today", - the Spellbinder entered the room, wearing a long violet dressing gown and rolling up her wet hair. A servant followed her, holding a towel and hairpins.

"What happened?" – Ashka looked at her Apprentice closely. Bowing, he gave her the letter, waiting for a reaction.

Spellbinder, give credit to her, was able to catch the other person's mood and take her cue from a situation immediately. This was something Gryvon considered as her undoubtful advantage. Sending the servant away, Ashka read the letter quickly and looked at her Apprentice.

"I was to get this letter a week ago, - he said, - damned Marauders arranged an ambush and took the cart. The bag with letter was found recently. I know that asking right now is…"

"Go immediately, - Ashka interrupted, - first to the stable, and order to saddle Dusk on my behalf, he is faster. Stay in Clayhill as long as you need".

Apparently the young man's jaw dropped and hos eyes were wide open, because his appearance made Ashka smile wryly.

"Gryvon, I may be very ruthless. I may be cruel. But I am not a monster, - she said calmly, - now go".

Nodding, he went to the door and turned around at the doorstep.

"Thank you…"

Tying the strings of his black cloak, Gryvon mounted and got a better grip on the reins. Never before Ashka allowed him to ride her horse. ЗThere was no reason actually. But it seems time comes for everything…

Passing the gates, he made Dusk go up on a gallop, not sure how the animal will behave. The Spellbinder often said that Gryvon used to sleep in the saddle and look somewhere for too often. But right now he felt he could hardly be bucked off. Even if Dusk bolts. Right now he wasn't afraid of the Marauders that could hide somewhere nearby. His thoughts right now were about his mother. And the fact that a week is sometimes too much …


	13. Story 13 Conspirators

**Story 13. Conspirators. **

"**I**t'sstrange, Gryvon. Seems like you don't bother me with your pleads to fly a ship anymore…"

The young man didn't know how to react, so he continued walking in silence next to the Spellbinder, enjoining the calm windless evening. To tell the truth, tonight Ashka was in a strangely good mood. Even her caustic sarcasm didn't seem too poisonous. May be it was because of a successful chemistry lesson, the Apprentice didn't fail and didn't blow up anything. May be it was because of the evening, calm and so delicious. May be it was something else… nobody had an answer, so the phrase about the ship was unexpected.

"It's a question or a statement?" – Gryvon asked looking at the woman.

"A statement, - Ashka smirked, - but anyway, I want to know why you don't ask".

"Because I already know the answer, - the young man sighed, - it is useless to consolidate it. The Regents consider me as an inexperienced one etc."

"Well, if you think so… And I was going to ask you to take the pilot's seat…", - she suddenly said, walking forward.

Gryvon stopped. Was it a joke? Does her sarcasm grow?

"Did I hear it right? – he mumbled. - You really are going to allow me…"

"Exactly, - Ashka nodded, - looking at him over her shoulder, - I am. And if you don't change your mind, it's your chance".

The young man came closer.

"But… But what about the Regents? They won't allow until I…"

"Forget about Regents just for once, - the woman interrupted him sternly, - you are mature enough. And if I offer you flying the ship it's stupid to reject. Regents will know nothing if you are careful".

"But why? – bewildered, Gryvon looked at Ashka. - You said yourself…"

She rolled her eyes.

"Some more questions and I change my mind!"

"Right, - the Apprentice nodded quickly, - and when are you… I mean, are we going to do it?"

"When there's a right moment. Soon, I suppose", - Ashka answered thoughtfully, stopping at the viewing platform. They were standing opposite the rusty head of one of the ships…

They got the right moment not as soon as they wished to. The ships were usually absent during the days but now it happened during the evenings too. Complaining about the circumstances and making guesses, Gryvon was waiting. His hopes weren't too high, he had many years of experience and the simple fact that Ashka is Ashka. He didn't know whether to believe her or it was a passing whim. But one evening the woman was going downstairs, saying: "Be ready before the dawn". The young man suddenly realized she had been absolutely serious.

He couldn't fall asleep almost the whole night, waking up every hour and feeling worse than before his first history exam. Almost the whole night he couldn't calm down, tossing and turning on a suddenly tough like a stone bed. He'd been waiting for this for so long, dreaming, imagining, making the details, replaying mentally the sequence of actions. Make the powersuit work, pull the control levers, to spin the wheel of the bottom powerstone after the ship reaches the minimal flight height. Pull the control levers one more time and… fly! He had accompanied Ashka for so many times and saw how to do it. He'd imagined himself taking this seat. However, now he had the doubts. Would he succeed?

Gryvon didn't want to lose face and be a coward, so he tried to calm down. He had to behave naturally, or else Ashka would change her mind. She could… Straightening the powersuit, the young man put on a long black cloak he used quite seldom and left his room.

Ashka was waiting for him in the hall. She put on the same cloak. Together they left the castle and went to the landing Tower. With his heart sinking, Gryvon went upstairs, one cold metal step by another, into the center of his dream. Here are the passenger seats… here's a pilot's seat, viewing the castle walls.

"It seems everything's all right, - Gryvon said, looking at two guards passing the viewing platform, - but what do we say to the Regents if they find out?"

"When will you stop behaving like a naughty boy? – Ashka exclaimed. - What does it matter? We'll say I was sitting there. Perhaps, we had to go to Clayhill. And yes, - she answered, predicting the next question, - We didn't take the horses, the ship is faster".

Gryvon nodded. The explanation was more or less appropriate. He put off the coat and took the pilot's seat. Now he had to keep in mind what he was brushing up. The plattens on the wrists were put together, producing a powerbolt. His fingers squeezed the levers. Standing next to the seat, Ashka turned around. The huge powerstone giving the power to the whole ship, heated becoming fiery-golden. The powerbolt reached it.

"Gryvon, look forward, - the woman said, watching her happy Apprentice turned around to observe the powerstone, - you'd seen it for many times rs".

"But I never activated it", - the young man thought not realizing he actually pronounced it aloud. Ashka sniffed. At the same time the ship was going up from the energy platform. It seemed everything was done…

Don't be happy so early, - the Spellbinder tapped on the powerstone controlling wheel, - or else we are to fall onto this Tower the whole night long".

She said it in time, nearly a moment before the thrust that never was. Gryvon activated the mechanism and suddenly understood nothing was holding their ship. They were flying…

"Hold the levers calmly, - Ashka remarked watching his hands, - the mechanism obey the tiny movements".

He did as she said, holding the levers not so firmly. The viewing platform in front of the ship was replaced by the tower levels and narrow windows. And after them an endless smooth surface of the lightening sky…

"Holly Regents…" – Gryvon breathed out.

"You did it", - Ashka finished his phrase and put her Eyestone on the dashboard.

"Why did you take it? – the young man gave a start nearly letting the levers out of his hands. – Now they will be able to detect us!"

Ashka's eyes widened with surprise.

"So what? As we said, I am "piloting" the ship, you go with me. And by the way, it is very good that we have an Eyestone. Its presence proves our intentions are legal. If I left it in my bedroom, the Regents were to be alarmed".

"Well, if you say it…", - Gryvon calmed down a little, relaxing. It wasn't frightful at all, if you think about! The Spellbinders were right, the ones he asked about the flights. And yes, it's really impossible to describe, it should be felt.

The castle was replaced by the forest nearby… Gryvon turned the levers a little, forcing the ship to go to the left. The mechanism obeyed and everything was great.

"I can't believe!" – he exclaimed, watching the narrow road lines between the trees. The Spellbinder next to him smiled. And then the Eyestone on the dashboard started working.

"Ashka, this is Gareth. In the name of all the Regents put together, what's happening? Where's the Clayhill ship and where are you?"

"Good morning, Regent, - the woman answered imperturbably, raking the Eyestone, - everything is all right, I go to Clayhill".

"Now?"

"Yes, Regent, - Spellbinder's voice was even, - Gryvon goes with me, he has some business in the village. We decided to fly, as horse riding takes more time".

"But why so early? – The man was bewildered. - Is it so important you couldn't wait? And anyway, why didn't you let anyone know?"

"We didn't want to disturb your sleep, Regent", - Ashka said sweetly, paying no attention to the second question.

They heard a sniff in the Eyestone.

"All right, in this case…"

"We can say good bye to each other", - the woman added mentally, trying to finish the conversation as soon as possible. But then Gryvon's voice made Ashka give a start:

"Spellbinder, the power's gone!"

"What do you mean 'it's gone?" – Ashka and Gareth, who heard everything, exclaimed at once. The woman caught herself and looked at the Eyestone, trying to remedy the situation.

"It's all right, regent, we have the control".

However, Gareth wasn't a fool

"Ashka, what's happening? What's the matter? Ashka, do you hear me?"

But the Eyestone was already closed, breaking the connection. Ashka ran to the pilot's seat, watching the powerstone that darkened and stopped rotating.

"What happened?"

"I don't know! – Gryvon exclaimed, trying to lull the useless levers. - it just stopped and that's all!"

"Did you push any buttons?"

"No, I swear!"

"Gryvon!"

"It's true!"

Ashka looked at the ship helplessly. What could happen? The Eyestone worked, so the power station is working, the castle has nothing to do with it. Then what? The Clayhill Tower? They didn't reach it, even weren't' flying close enough, going above the fields. АWhat's the matter? Where's the power?

All these thoughts went though her mind nearly in a second. Before her eyes caught the cooling powerstone, her hands squeezed the belt of Gryvon's powersuit.

"When was the last time you changed the powerstones?"

"I…"

"Don't beat about the bush, Gryvon, - her fingers released the useless rocks from the bracing. - Was it long ago? Yes or no?"

A nod.

"Dope! – Ashka shouted, removing the powerstones from her own powersuit and putting them instead of the used once. - They are depleted. How many times I said you to look after it! Give the powerbolt!"

Gryvon produced the lightning, squeezing the control levers again. Ashka closed the bracing and stood up, pulling the levers and denting Apprentice's fingers into them.

"Come on!"

Her right hand spun the wheel quickly. It was done just in time as the ship was losing the height and almost hitting the rocks. Suddenly a strong thrust shook the whole ship. Gryvon was nearly dented into the seat. Ashka lost her balance and fell to the floor. Pulling the control levers, Gryvon saw that in the last moment, almost hitting big grey stones with its head, the ship took the height again… They did it. They were flying one more time.

"Spellbinder, are you all right?" – He asked, looking back anxiously. Sitting on the floor, Ashka touched the bruised back of her head and looked at him threateningly.

"You'd better watch the flight before I lose my temper, - she said harshly, - we are to have troubles".

Indeed, the troubles she had meant were waiting for them. And they were represented by Gareth, who stood near the Tower. His look didn't promise any optimistic expectations.

"I told it for so many times, I was repeating it during the Spellbinders meetings – an Apprentice can not fly the ship until he or she is ready! – he shouted out looking at the runaways going downstairs. - Ashka, should I say it more often or, perhaps, should you start listening to me?"

"Regent, what's the problem? – smiling, Ashka bowed calmly. - I told you everything, you heard it. Gryvon and I were going to Clayhill, weren't we?"

Gryvon nodded, yet he had no idea what the result of this dialog will be. Folding his arms, Gareth rolled his eyes.

"You think I'm a fool? Yes, I heard everything, and the words about the power had gone too. And it was your Apprentice who said it, by the way".

"Of course, Regent, - the woman continued, - we had had a problem, but solved it. Gryvon was standing next to me and noticed it in time. The ship went flying".

"Oh, did it? – Gareth frowned. - And where was it flying to?"

"To Clayhill, I told you".

"Really? – The man played with the Eyestone in his hands. - May be I should check it?"

"You don't believe me?" – Ashka blushed.

"I don't understand why are you lying to me? – regent said, raising his voice. - I know what happened there. It was Gryvon who was flying the ship, despite the fact that none of us three allowed it! Speaking about you, Ashka, your action is outrageous!"

"Regent, Gryvon is mature enough to fly the ship", - Ashka objected.

"So you admit he'd taken the pilot's seat?"

"Yes, I do, - the woman exclaimed, - eventually, he's my Apprentice! Don't Spellbinders define their Apprentices' experience?"

"Don't forget yourself, Ashka. The Council is superior".

"If I listen to the Council, - Ashka said, - he's still a kid! Don't forget that he's nineteen soon! Why am I lying? Think!"

Gareth raised his hand but a slap never followed. Gryvon took several steps backwards, feeling he's unwanted here.

"If I didn't remember a little silly girl that had everything and more than that, - Gareth said clearly with his fingers near Ashka's face, - you would have paid for this insolence".

Turning around he went to the castle, saying no words to the runaways. Gryvon, watching him for some time, turned to the Spellbinder.

"What now?"

"Nothing, - Ashka answered, - I am right and he knows it. And even if I have to speak to the Council, I will say the same words Gareth heard. As for you – I hope you've learned the lesson and will be more careful with your powersuit in the future".

Her green eyes observed Gryvon.

"Don't think of the things that are none of your business, Apprentice. And now let's go to the castle".

She left the viewing platform, going to the stairs. Hesitating, Gryvon followed her. He wasn't sure it hand' been his business and felt guilty. On the other hand, it was Ashkas idea, and seems like the storm has passed…

Leaving the stairs behind, he went to the Apprentices wing. The storm had passed, but Gryvon couldn't forget the Regent's words. The ones about a silly little girl that had everything…


	14. Story 14 A moment of weakness

**Story 14. A moment of weakness. **

**N**early a year and a half passed since that day. An episode with his first half-successful flight seemed insignificant for Gryvon now. Ashka behaved naturally, caustically and sometimes impossibly, not mentioning that story. However, she had had spoken to the Council, apparently, because the Regents didn't restrict the flights for a young Apprentice anymore.

The Spellbinder was always nearby, standing next to the pilot's seat and often making caustic comments about Gryvon who could tear off the control levers, pulling with such strength. However, sometimes the Apprentice didn't make any evident mistakes, so the woman kept silent or smiled wryly, watching him piloting. Remembering his first poor experience, Gryvon tried to be more careful. If he felt his powerstones are to deplete, he would take several new with him. Anyway, there were no more situations like that one, Ashka didn't have to do a powerstones changing stunt.

"You make progress, Apprentice", - she said sometimes, going to the hatch. These moments Gryvon caught himself smiling stupidly. Such a phrase said by the Spellbinder was equal to early becoming a Regent. Gryvon smiled, understanding he shouldn't expect too much from her, he should appreciate something he already has. Ashka will always be Ashka, a mysterious and unknowable ginger hurricane that , he thought, had no idea about sentimental affection and other silly things.

Just once he had some doubts about it. That time he understood he had been absolutely wrong, that the Spellbinder isn't a mechanism. It was a late autumn evening, the sky had already darkened, but the castle residents were just ordering to lay the table.

The supper in Gryvon's room had been rather lovely – Nathia, Olin and two more Apprentices joined him, talking about the flights and landing practice. The evening was interesting, the company was nice and the most important thing – there were no lessons the next day. So he didn't have to rush and take the books and lecture parchments, trying to remember what he did learn and what he didn't.

After the supper he said good bye to his friends and went to see Ashka. He didn't have to do it actually, but he wanted to be sure the next day and the morning especially would be free. The young man had been trapped in the same situations several times, when the Spellbinder with her shining powersuit and a faerie temperament reminded him about the duel practice or the flight lesson he had forgot. It's better to be sure…

Opening the door, Gryvon examined the room.

"Spellbinder, are you here?"

No one answered. There were no voices or any other noises in the room. The fire was started. Big massive candelabras with lighted candles were standing on the cabinet, on the table and near the bed. The cloak and the powersuit put on the struts were on the hanger. The table was laid but it seems the food wasn't eaten. The cooling vegetables, a vase with fruits, wine and a pitcher of water… there was a book on a chair. Gryvon took it, looking at the title. "Ancient legends of constellations". Yes, that was her style, to spend even a free evening together with astronomy.

However, it's strange. Seems like the room had been empty for a while. Cool wind went through the opened window, making Gryvon come back to the reality. Opening the book, he sat down the table, planning to wait and look through some chapters. The cloak and the powersuit is here. So is Ashka. And she'll be back soon.

Somehow he became interested, reading the stories about Spellbinders associating the Darkness with extinguished stars and a possible curse caused by the marauders. Of course it looked anything but truth. As for the marauders – Gryvon hated them but didn't consider these people able to make so great risings and bold outbursts. But the story style was interesting. And as his teacher used to say, an extra point of view is never unnecessary.

Suddenly he heard the door opening. Looking to the right, the young man saw Ashka entering the room slowly. She was in a habit and a tunic, with heavy velvet-bound octagonal books in her hands.

"Good afternoon", - Gryvon said, standing up.

She gave a start and raised her eyes.

"What… What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, Spellbinder, - he answered, - I was going to ask about tomorrow morning, if you have any instructions. Or, perhaps, we will train powerbolts firing…"

Silence.

'You've been to the library?" – Gryvon tried to begin in a different way, thinking that the Spellbinder was in no mood, perhaps. During these years he got used to her mood changing, more or less. Not professionally, but sometimes he was able to hit the frequency.

Ashka was still silent, looking in front of her.

'What happened?" – the Apprentice exclaimed, becoming anxious. Her look wasn't right, but too wrong, unexpected.

"Gryvon, - the woman said softly, focusing her eyes on him, - Gareth is dead…"

They kept silent for some seconds, not breaking the pause. It was a blow, not too terrible yet, but unexpected. At first Gryvon thought he got it wrong and almost said: "Is it a joke?" but Ashka, standing in the center of the room, with books in her hands made him not do it somehow. With all her impossible outrage, why would she joke like that?

Hesitating, the young man took a step forward. He didn't know what to expect, so he expected everything, any second. What do women do in such cases? Scream and cry? Lose their consciousness? Gryvon could hardly imagine what to do in any of these situations, so he had a right to be anxious.

However, Ashka defeated his expectations once again. She didn't faint. She had no hysterics with screaming and tearing her hair. She just stood there, with books in her arms, until Gryvon came closer.

"How… What happened?" – he asked softly.

"We went to the library, - the woman started, as if thawing out, - he asked me to help with the old books and bring the new ones for his study. He said the servants aren't able to do it properly… We went upstairs in the hall…, - he hands were trembling, heavy books fell to the floor with loud noise, - he was talking and laughing. He was going to saddle three horses and invite as to ride through the villages at night… without any reason…"

"Us?" – Gryvon asked, confused, not even frowning after the loud sound.

"You and me", - the Spellbinder clarified.

The young man was really surprised. He could try and imagine Gareth and Ashka riding the horses through the night forest. But imagining himself as a third one was quite problematic. And there it was – Regent wanted him to join them…

He squeezed Ashka's shoulders lightly and led her to the armchair. She sat down obediently.

"We were almost there, just some more steps…", - she continued, - and then he stumbled. It was like a nightmare. And when I realized what had happened he was already lying there, near the stairs. He was looking up and smiling… The Spellbinders went there, and he was smiling…"

Her fingers were trembling again. Gryvon realized that was a shock, but he could do something for it… He went to the table and poured some wine in the cup. Hesitating, he added water there and gave the drink to the Spellbinder.

"Drink it".

"I don't want…", - the woman shook her head.

"Spellbinder, please".

"Gryvon, I…"

"Holly Regents, Ashka! – The young man exclaimed. - I don't try to poison you rashly! Now come on!"

He kept his mouth shut, already regretting about his temper and familiarity, afraid that the punishment will be immediate. Ashka looked at the young man in bewilderment, then took a sip of wine silently. Gryvon took her cup and put it on the floor. Sat down in the nearest chair. Her silent obedience frightened him. He'd rather prefer her to make a mess here, scream at the appearing servants and guards, slap him with no reason… or at least fire some powerbolts. This was Ashka he understood and accepted, she was more natural like this. But Ashka that was sitting in the armchair was unfamiliar, unknown. Unreal. And this was something that frightened him. That shock, that she had instead of unacceptable hysterics and faints…

"Where is he now?" – Gryvon asked, when she drank the wine and put the cup on the floor again.

"We took him to the old passage, where we'd kept the powersuits once. It is quite clean and…, - she laughed suddenly, silently, heartlessly, - clean… he always told me he wanted a sudden death, unexpected, with no long preparations… How do you think, - the woman looked at her Apprentice, - is such a death appropriate?'

Gryvon swallowed nervously, pouring some more wine and water to the cup and slicing a pear. In the second cup he made the same drink for himself. Now he forgot he sarcasm and the sentimentality that was so inappropriate for the Spellbinders…

"I don't know, - the young man said honestly, giving a cup and a slice of pear to Ashka, - I can hardly believe it's true".

"Me too, - the woman nodded, - when we were standing near the stairs I was sure it is a kind of a cruel joke. And the old rogue would stand up and laugh. If he'd done it I would have strangled him!"

Gryvon lowered his head, hiding a smile. It was very like his Spellbinder.

"My mother died too, - he said finally, - then, two years ago. I got the letter a week later. I went to Clayhill but it was too late…"

While saying it he remembered. He remembered Riana that had met him on the road. Her look told him what had happened. He remembered his father, whose hair became grey for some years at once… just one week. Sometimes it is everything. And it is really too much.

"I envy you, Gryvon", - the Spellbinder said suddenly.

The young man didn't know what to say. Is she serious? In the name of Regents, what could she envy of?

"I envy you, because you didn't see how it happened, - the woman answered his unspoken question, - I did. Thrice".

"Thrice?" – Gryvon nearly repeated, but then he understood.

"Your parents?"

The woman nodded again.

"I was six. My mother was ill. So quietly and invisibly. When she'd gone my father's mind dimmed. He decided he doesn't need to live anymore. And so about me. He left the house empty and went to the mountains…, - she drank the wine, - and then he jumped from a cliff. Perhaps he thought I would do the same… But I didn't want to! I ran as far as I could from that place, shouting until I lost my voice. Gareth found me…"

Gryvon shivered, imagining this horror and the feelings of a small child. That is why Ashka became what she was, that is why she refused to enter his house once, that is why she never told him about her family… All these "that is why" suddenly became so clear and evident, making a chain of understanding.

"Did you love Gareth?" – he asked. Probably it was the wine that made him ask. And she… she answered.

"I am unable to love, Gryvon, - Ashka laughed bitterly, - this is something I know for sure. Gareth said it once…"

"But why? – Gryvon exclaimed, nearly jumping. - Didn't he understand it's not true? It's not you! The circumstances made you like this!"

"Do not defend me, - Ashka said sternly, - and never try to do it".

"But why?"

"Because I am what I am, Gryvon. That's it. And as for Gareth…, - putting of the boots she pulled her legs into the armchair, - I don't know… he had been everyone and everything for me. Sometimes I hated him. Sometimes I loved. And sometimes it was vice versa – he hated and loved me. I wasn't a quiet child".

Gryvon grinned. This was something he never doubted.

"And Gareth… Gareth had always allowed me everything. He was happy to raise me. Sometimes I thought he'd rather prefer a boy, a son, but he had no children. Only me. He gave me this ring…, - she touched the jewelry on her right hand, - Gryvon, why did it happen?"

The young man didn't answer immediately, looking at her slender fingers.

"It's just an accident, Ashka, - he said, - an awkward, unfortunate, horrible accident. Nobody could say this would have happened. Even he…, - his words were about dead Spellbinder. Gryvon imagined the old passage on the lowest level of the castle. Indeed, it was clean. But now it was also uncomfortable. And creepy. - Gareth would have never joke like this. It's just an accident, - he repeated and suddenly became silent. In trembling lights of the candles he saw a shining wet track on the cheek of the woman sitting opposite him, - Ashka, you're crying…"

"What? No! – she became alert, touching her face with her fingers and looking at the tears on her skin in bewilderment. - Indeed… What's wrong with me? It never happened before… I'm not a stupid crybaby!"

She gasped, desperately trying to wipe away the treacherous moisture on her eyes. Gryvon didn't know what she was afraid of – him, herself or these tears. If it was someone else such a reaction would seem wrong and strange. But he felt it couldn't be any other way with Ashka. Gryvon had no idea and didn't want to, imagining how it is – to control yourself for so many years and become afraid of your own tears one day.

"Ashka, - he sat on his heels next to her, - it's all right. All people cry. You are human".

"If you tell anyone about it..", - the Spellbinder started, wiping away another tear angrily.

"You don't need to warn me, - Gryvon shook his head, taking her hand, - in the morning we "forger" everything and behave naturally. But before the morning comes, there's some time, there's this evening. There's nothing to be ashamed of, let yourself go, just for one time".

And she did it. She let the hair fall onto her tears-wet face, forgetting that she's a Spellbinder that thinks about other people and pays no attention to her own emotions. She cried, long and quietly, almost silently, with her cheek on Gryvon's shoulder. The young man felt his tunic soaked, but he was still sitting near the armchair, embracing Spellbinder's trembling shoulders. He didn't say any comforting words. She didn't need them. That evening they were a single entity, with no need to turn the thoughts into words. That evening, and Gryvon realized it with sorrow, they were as close as they had never been before. As they would never be anymore. There would never be such a unity anymore, there would never be the same weakness that made them nearly equals. Once letting somebody to see her soul, Ashka would never ever do it again.

When the fire had faded, Gryvon already knew the evening will be over, it couldn't last forever. But for now he didn't care. He was waiting. And he was going to wait as long as it was necessary. The Spellbinder was still crying, as if in a try to free her eyes from the long burden. And even later, when she calmed down in his arms, tears were still running down her cheeks. Gryvon was waiting. And then, later, when the evening became the night and Ashka fell asleep, he took her in his arms carefully, lifting from the armchair. Slowly and gently he put his precious burden on the bed and covered with a blanket. Then blew out the lights…

In the morning everything will be the same, except the necessity to think about Gareth's funeral. In the morning he will "forget", and she will "forget" too. And the only reminder of that evening for Gryvon will be the fact that from now on he would be allowed to call her not the Spellbinder, but Ashka…


	15. Story 15 Point of no return

**Story 15. Point of no return. **

**T**he funeral pyre was made at the Valaphire bank the next evening. Standing in a group of Apprentices wearing black, Gryvon was looking at the fire. With all his inability to take his cue from a situation at once, which Ashka criticized so often, he understood, had to understand that changes were to follow in their country. And that they will be hard…

Ashka was standing among other Spellbinders, not too far. She was absolutely calm. She remained imperturbable when Gareth was laid on the satin cover. Or when Lukan told about all the lifetime advantages and merits of the dead Spellbinder and then went forward with a torch in his hand… She also knew about the future changes. She knew that she was to take Gareth's place in the Council. She knew about the difficulties.

Both the Apprentice and the Spellbinder were confident about the future. They had expectations. But as it often happens, the expectations were defeated. Three days later Ashka was called to the hall of the Council…

"…What do you mean "the place is already taken"? It's not the market of Rivertown!"

"Ashka, mind your language!" – Lukan interrupted her, frowning. Marna, who was sitting next to him, interfered.

"I am really sorry, Ashka, but the place in the Council will be taken by Correon".

"Why?"

"Because he is older and wiser", - Marna answered.

Ashka's eyes widened.

"Older and wiser? So you consider me as a silly child? You are also…", - she stopped, looking at Marna with confusion.

"You mean I am also young? – The woman guessed. - You are right, our age difference is not too big. But Tark left his place during his lifetime and gave official instructions about my appointment. As for this situation, - the Regent made a helpless gesture, - we got no instructions".

"But Gareth told about it for so many times! – Ashka exclaimed. - He wanted me to take his place after his death!"

"Stop it! – Lukan's palm hit the table. - What's done is done. When Gareth had spoken about it, he had no idea one beautiful evening he would fall down the stairs. He spoke about the distant future, not the nearest one".

Ashka made a step backward, watching their faces.

"You can't do this to me! – She said. - To him! To his will!"

"Ashka, be sensible, - breaking the conventionalities, Marna stood up and went to the Spellbinder, - I know nobody could predict it… Did Gareth give you any papers, letters?"

She shook her head.

"No…"

"You see, it means there were no instructions, - Marna concluded, - as for me, I can tell you that if Lukan or me would have gotten any indications, we would have let you know at once. But alas, - The Regent sighed, - no papers had been found or gotten. So you can not inherit his place in the Council…"

Still not believing, Ashka moved backward.

"I am very sorry, - Marna repeated, - but…"

"But Correon will be the Regent, - Lukan finished for her, - this is it. And let's finish with it. The initiation will be tomorrow, in the morning, And then the oath of allegiance will be taken".

Thinking the conversation is over, he stood up. Ashka felt everything was boiling inside her. The vision darkened. Turning around, she opened the doors and ran from the hall, nearly knocking off two guards standing there. Marble steps were streaking under her feet.

"Ashka, wait!" – somebody caught her elbow.

"Get out!" – the Spellbinder shouted, trying to break free. But then she saw it was Gryvon.

"What's the matter? – the young man asked, keeping up with woman's quick walking. - Did you speak to them?"

"Oh yes! – She said caustically, almost running. - It's Correon who will be the third Regent! What a surprise!"

"What? – Gryvon stopped for a second, not able to believe. - It's not possible!"

"Yes. It is, - the Spellbinder said sternly, opening the door to her room where the servants were cleaning up, - get put from here!"

The girls didn't need to be told twice, silently they went to the corridor. Staying alone with Gryvon, Ashka went to the table, leaning on it.

"My appointment had to exist in written form, - she said with anger in her voice, - apparently, Gareth didn't have time or didn't think about it. Waited for a moment, I suppose. And now…, - she took the vase from a sill and threw it to the wall. Gryvon wasn't standing on a fiery line, but he took a step backward, looking at the rain of fragments.

"… Now my place is taken by this old fool Correon! When did they choose him? Only several days passed!"

"But what about Gareth's will? – Gryvon asked. - Don't they know he'd made a decision long ago?"

"Oh they do know, - the Spellbinder said caustically, - they do, but they think it's better this way".

Turning from her Apprentice she looked out of the window. Ringing stressful silence covered everything. Gryvon didn't come closer, staying at his place.

"Can't we do anything?" – he mumbled.

Suddenly the Spellbinder laughed. Her laughter, strange and so unexpected, made the young man shiver.

"No, Gryvon, we can't do anything, - she said, laughing, - and we won't. For now. Tomorrow morning there will be the Initiation. We will be there. We will admire the new Regent, smiling, and then he will take the oath of allegiance".

"But why? – Gryvon exclaimed, not understanding. - you give up and accept him?"

The Spellbinder stopped laughing, but was still smiling. Her smile was unkind.

"I will swear an oath, - the woman repeated, - and I will obey all the Regent's orders for having my revenge one day".

Her smile became wider and more dangerous.

"I will have my revenge upon the Council and cut the ground from under their feet. I'll do the same thing to them they did to me today. I'll make them remember Gareth and me".

She came closer to her Apprentice, squeezing his hand painfully.

"You'll help me, Gryvon. They all will regret about it, all. Marna, this stupid goose, Lukan with his strange ideas, and Correon. Correon that took something meant for me".

Gryvon swallowed, hardly believing his ears.

"Are you serious?'

"Absolutely, - Ashka nodded calmly, - we will keep a low profile and wait. Wait for the right moment to come. Once it will come and then I will strike a blow…"

**End of part one. **


	16. Story 16 Newcomer one year later

**Story 16. Newcomer (one year later). **

"**T**hat Marauder we saw in Rivertown today was very strange".

"Didn't they catch him?"

"No, I had stayed and watched the guards combing the forest. The locals were going to help but it was useless. It was like he vanished into thin air".

Nightly darkness fell. Gryvon and Ashka were standing at the viewing platform, from which not the castle walls but the green forest nearby could be seen. Somewhere in the distance Rivertown was located. Today there was a real commotion there – a strange boy that had appeared almost from nowhere put the marketplace upside dpwn, breaking the laws. Somehow he let the powerbolt through him with no implications at all and then disappeared mysteriously. Many people had witnessed it and Gryvon was already ably to guess what the silly peasants were to discuss these days. Well of course, seems like they have nothing else to do. And here they have such news without any proper explanation!

Gryvon rolled his eyes, imagining how it is going to be. Then he tried to remember how the Marauder looked like. And yes, that strange huge scull on his clothes… His father said the Marauder had two heads but it sounded less than believable. And speaking about the scull…

"I don't like this story, - Ashka went to the wide stone handrail and sat down on the edge, - something's not right about the boy".

"What do you mean?" – Gryvon asked, stopping his thoughts about the scull.

"Everything, - the woman waved with her hand, - for example, the powerbolt I fired. Have you ever seen a person with no powersuit could stand it so easily?"

The Apprentice had to admit she was right. The Marauder didn't just stand, it was like he felt nothing at all.

"His bag disappeared and no one noticed, - Ashka continued, - and the fact that he came to the market openly…"

"He changed his clothes", - the young man said reasonably.

"But it is unusual, anyway, - the Spellbinder answered, - very unusual… Right, tomorrow you will go to Clayhill, it is the closest village to Rivertown. Stay at your father's and watch everything closely, what happen in the village and the surroundings".

"What should I lie to my father?" – Gryvon was surprised.

"Who says you should lie to him? – the woman answered with a question. - Tell him the Marauders had been seen near the villages and I ordered you to check. It's almost true".

She turned and jumped back to the platform.

"I have a strange feeling, Gryvon, - Ashka said, shaking the dust off her hands, - for some reason I believe we'll meet this boy again…"


	17. Story 17 Secrets of a stranger

**Story 17. Secrets of a stranger. **

**H**e made the Marauders leave Clayhill… He made the Marauders leave Clayhill! This thought bothered him while Gryvon was standing near the Tower, looking at the flying ship. Paul, caught by the peasants, went upstairs, shouting that he didn't want to be banished. Gryvon didn't worry about the boy's future, but his strange behavior, that unknown things in his hands… and now Clayhill was put into a flutter along with Rivertown… This Paul wasn't what he seemed to be. He came to the village from nowhere. Bron's relative… aha, who will believe!

Looking at the ship going to the castle, Gryvon felt, suspected he knew the thoughts of Ashka, who was piloting it. And he agreed as never before. No, the punishment is the punishments, but sending this boy to the Wastelands now would have been a regrettable omission. And the young man had no doubts; Ashka would create some plan in order to defend the stranger, if the Council members have a proper mood.

Gryvon grinned. Proper or not – she'll do it anuway, there couldn't be another option. He wondered what Bron's family knew. However, what could these people know… Oh, here they are, by the way, talk of the peasants!

Riana stood in front of the door, as always, pretty and serious. And anxious now. Had they already become friends? Despite the girl's pleading eyes, Gryvon gave her the go-by and closed the door with a thud. Magic. Magic… of course, there was no magic, he said it with a purpose. It was some inaccessible technology which was breaking their law. But it made the technology even more important to learn. He remembered the grey bag of Paul that was taken to the castle along with him. It was full of strange things they had never seen before… he remembered unusual small bottles that were blowing up when the Marauders came close…

The next morning he said to his father for the numerous time that the stranger will have a severe punishment and there's nothing to worry about. Then Gryvon went to the castle. The day was too promising to stay in the village any longer. The forest was calm and the young man forced the horse to go up on a gallop, hoping that the conversation with the Regents will be over and the news will come soon. Such an unexpected smile of fortune shouldn't be unnoticed and left out of the hands. And speaking about the punishments – it can follow a little bit later…


	18. Story 18 Trust

**Story 18. Trust. **

"**I** must have a secret of this gunpowder, - Ashka said fiddling with the last small bottle, - tell me, do these things always act this way?" – She looked at the mess around her.

"Apparently, - Gryvon mumbled, shocked, removing the dry leaves from Ashka's hair, - sorry again. So I go now?"

"Wait, - the woman stopped him, still looking at the gunpowder, - we'd better be careful with it".

"You think Paul won't tell?"

"I don't know, Gryvon! He doesn't look like a fool".

The young man stood still.

"So what do we do?"

Ashka tossed up the bottle.

"We have to improvise. Do you pretend well, Gryvon?"

"What do you mean? – Bewildered, the Apprentice looked at the Spellbinder. - And what does it have to do with our plan?"

"Don't be a fool! – The woman exclaimed. - Who had been in Paul's cell? That Zander! We have no idea what he could tell the boy".

"During so little time?" – Gryvon was surprised.

"It doesn't matter, - Ashka continued, - of course, Paul is in a mood to talk, but we need to protect ourselves. That is why I repeat my question – can you pretend well?"

She looked at the young man, examining, as if she tried to find some hidden potential.

"I don't know, - he shrugged, - and what do I need to show?"

"You are rude, small-minded, straightforward and impulsive, - the Spellbinder smiled, like she was rewarding her companion with exquisite compliments, - remember these features, Gryvon. And do your best. Paul should't find the catch".

"Why do you need all this? – the young man was confused. - It will give only the opposite effect".

Ashka patted on his shoulder mockingly.

"Seems like you're getting into the role? We need this, Gryvon, - suddenly she became absolutely serious, - because right after you I will follow – a wise and just mentor who can protect Paul from your impulsiveness and straightforwardness. Don't you understand he's scared?"

Her thin eyebrows curved a little. A cunning smile touched her lips. Gryvon understood. Smiling to her, he went into the dungeons, where the cells were located. He'll do it, he'll do his best. Ashka had always known what to do, and he just had to pretend.

It went without a hitch. And later, when Paul, so happy that he had left the cell, was enjoying the bath full of lather, Ashka disclosed her plan. Indeed, what could be more pleasant than the fact that somebody takes your side and believes the most incredible story this country has ever heard? Inspired and trusting, Paul will definitely tell everything they need…


	19. Story 19 Riana and Nathia

**Story 19. Riana and Nathia. **

**E**verything had been just perfect. Until his former neighbor meddled into their affair, crushing awkwardly the wonderful plan Ashka had thought up with such an enthusiasm. Seeing the blurred green silhouette though the keyhole, Gryvon felt speechless. Holly Regents, what a speed! Not too long ago she had been shifting shyly from one foot to the other near his doorstep, and now she had already reached the castle and was talking to Paul and Correon as if nothing had happened! To Correon… Wait a minute!

Listening to the questions the interested Regent was asking, the young man understood it couldn't get any worse. Riana didn't just crush their plan; she destroyed it, stupid girl!

Of course, Correon was inspired. Nobody doubted. And it had been him who'd offered to banish Paul to the Wastelands! Sneaking into the hall of the Council, Gryvon listened to the Regents talking and got the information slowly. Cars, washing machines, TVs… These words meant nothing for him, except the fact that the things were from a different world, of course. The world that was so close, with its entire splendor. The world where the life seemed absolutely different. And now the Regents had a chance to reach this world faster, leaving him and Ashka holding the bag.

Lukan, this old madcap, nearly finished everything, speaking of the Wastelands once again. But this time Correon's curiosity determined the unexpected guest's fate. They decided to question Paul one more time. Trying not to make any noise, the young man went upstairs slowly, leaving the hall and ran to Ashka. Oh, Paul was to tell them his secrets, indeed. But it had to be a different time and different place. And he, Gryvon, had some ideas about that…

The second time Riana stood on their way was later, when Paul had been safely hidden in one of the castle cellars. The guards were looking through all the levels, fussing and finding nothing. Little dodger put a tail on them, found the cellar door and almost crushed the saved plan one more time.

"Where should we hide her now?" – Gryvon looked at the caught girl with a mixture of amazement and irritation, tying up her hands.

"To my room at first, there she won't be searched for", - Ashka said, feeling already no amazement.

And so they did, having no better solution but to leave the girl in the bath. Looking at her one last time, he felt uneasy for a moment. Then it was over. Going to his own room, Gryvon decided to go to bed earlier. In the morning they had to go to the old castle ruins and test the fireworks. And he had to be in a good shape.

He hardly had time to put off the wide leather belt when someone knocked at his door. Thinking Ashka came back for some reason, he opened at once. And stood back, confused.

"Nathia?"

"Good evening, Gryvon, - the girl smiled, tossing with her light blond curls that became shorter than usual some time ago, - may I come in?"

"Sure", - he stepped aside, letting the Apprentice in and having no idea yet, what her visit had been caused by. The girl went along the table and the chairs slowly, running on the chair backs with her finger.

"Tell me, would you like to go for a walk with me? The weather is so wonderful, we could have saddled the horses and…"

"I'm very sorry, Nathia, I can't, - Gryvon mumbled, thinking that this invitation was "just in time", - I feel not very good…"

"Really? – the girl turned around, looking at her companion anxiously. - At first glance you look all right. Perhaps you should call the healer?"

"No need… It will be over itself, - Gryvon waved off her words, - I'll go to bed and will be right as rain in the morning…"

There was confusion in Nathia's eyes.

"It's strange, you usually don't go to bed so early…"

"Well, to my joy, I usually don't feel bad, - the young man said to match her, - I think you'd better go alone…"

Me?" – Nathia's eyes widened as if she heard something extremely silly.

"Or ask somebody else, - Gryvon started extricating, - you're right, the weather is wonderful. I am sure you will find a company".

The girl sighed, biting her lip.

"What a pity. I wanted you to be my company…"

"Alas, - Gryvon made a helpless gesture, - I am not to walk today. And now I am really sorry but I want to sleep".

For a moment or two she was looking at him with no emotions, as if she wanted to find something. And then…

"Tell me, Gryvon, is it because of Ashka?"

"Ashka? – His shock was almost natural. - What does it have to do with her?"

"It had always been something about her, - the girl said quietly, coming closer, - you follow her as an attached person, just like some servant".

"Be kind and don't involve her into it, - Gryvon interrupted, folding his arms on his chest, - and anyway, I told you I feel bad. Why these stupid suspicions?"

"You've changed, Gryvon, very much, - Nathia came even closer, straightening the folds on his uniform, - did she make you like this?"

"Stop exaggerating! – avoiding her eyes willingly, the young man went to the fireplace. - And it's none of your business, anyway. You have to understand, Nathia, - seeing her lips were trembling he spoke quieter, - you are nice. And you are my friend, but…"

"… but I've made a decision long ago", - his inner voice finished the phrase.

Nathia nodded, smiling sadly.

"I got it. Sorry, - raising her head, she went to the door but then turned around, - by the way, I've cut my hair for you…"

The door was closed quietly. No thuds, no demonstrative neglect. Nothing. Just that uneasy feeling was coming back in waves, while Gryvon was looking at the place the girl stood at a moment ago…


	20. Story 20 Surprises

**Story 20. Surprises. **

**A**nd then everything went wrong, one after the other. Firstly Correon appeared, just out of the blue. He was someone they didn't want to see near Paul. As a result boy's foolishness and man's curiosity showed the way to one of the secret dungeons among the old ruins. Gryvon had heard about them and even had read within the history course. But as far as he could tell, the previous dungeon had been found about twenty years ago, south-east from the ruins. And it had been almost empty, except the nearly broken tables and dirt. Speaking about this one… Judging by the boy's and Regent's excited voices, it had something interesting. Journals. Old Spellbinders' journals. Hearing about the ancestors' deeds, Gryvon realized Ashka had to know it. And take some action. Immediately. Just think about it, they were chasing the gunpowder secret, and the weapon of who-knows-what-power had always been so close!

And then Riana appeared as it had already happened before. This time Gryvon didn't have a chance to be surprised, he found himself tied up, feeling he'd be very pleased to punish this wriggler. Perhaps, Ashka had been right, they had to banish her? One should solve the problems as they come. They had eased off and lost the sight of Riana, that's why now they were having even more problems than they had expected. Gryvon had been put into the hay, feeling insulted and angry, but then Maran came suddenly and released him. His eyes flashed with fury. Gryvon tried to run over the feeling of humiliated pride.

"Your daughter won't get away with it, I promise! – he exclaimed while Maran was freeing him from the ropes. - Where did they go?"

"To the Tower, I think", - the woman answered.

To the Tower… Of course. Following them, Gryvon hoped that all the surprises and the obstacles were over. But he hardly knew that Correon and Paul would be able to escape one more time. Or that the flying ship piloted to Clayhill by Ashka will take him and then fall halfway suddenly. The thrust was strong and unexpected. Not predicting such a trick, Ashka pulled the control levers, trying to raise the ship again. But it was unseless, the power had already gone. Gryvon knew it was stupid at least, to think that her powerstones were depleted. He clutched the left lever, turning it a little. The field in front of the ship was replaced by the river, which softened the impact. Squeezing the seat back with one hand, Gryvon caught Ashka's shoulder the last moment, preventing her to be pressed into the dashboard.

"Are you all right?"

"More or less, - the Spellbinder answered, tossing her hair from her face, - let's get out from here".

So they did, taking the Eyestone and the bag full of powerstones with them. The Marauders could hardy use them but here, with no ship it was better to ensure. And the next surprise, waiting for them neat the Easthill Tower, didn't take long to appear. Looking at the chain with electric sparks, Gryvon realized that was the reason why the ship fell. And that it couldn't happen without Paul's help…

And then… then there was a road, up and down along the rocks, searching for the Marauders, which were hiding somewhere in these labyrinths. Following Ashka that was able to go far ahead even in her powersuit, Gryvon suddenly felt as a young boy, who had once sprained the ankle in this forest. The Marauders were closer with each step and he had no powersuit just like the previous time. Ashka didn't believe the stories he had heard in the villages. The Marauders and their barbaric traditions, the peasants were talking about in order to scare the children, didn't bother her at all…

The night was senseless and stressful. Putting the bag with stones under his head, Gryvon was looking at the pieces of sky between the trees. From time to time he closed his eyes and listened. Everything was quiet. Somewhere in the distance birds were singing, but those were the only sounds he heard. He didn't want to sleep. But searching in the dark of a night was impossible. Ashka wasn't sleeping too, - sitting near the tree, she was watching the narrow road among the trees. Nobody appeared, nothing happened. Inaction annoyed her, the young man felt it almost physically.

Nearly in the morning they both fell asleep. And for some reason Gryvon, whose dreams had never been too bright or expressive, saw Gareth that night. The Regent was wearing his black-and-red cloak, he looked just like he used to many years ago, coming to the Clayhill Summoner's house. Sitting in a saddle, the man forced his horse to walk along the forest track. Gryvon, following the rider, wasn't able to reach him, staying behind no matter all his attempts to keep up. He stopped walking and ran, seeing the dark Regent's silhouette disappear in mist…

"Gryvon!" – Somebody shook his shoulder.

He opened his eyes and saw it was Ashka. And the morning had already come. Shaking off the unpleasant dream of him, Gryvon and the Spellbinder looked at the road, where a man was leading Correon's horse…


	21. Story 21 Sparks

**Story 21. Sparks. **

**L**iving in the castle for so many years, Gryvon learned a lot. And he tried to learn even more. He compensated the unavailable knowledge perfection with his own stubbornness and striving for this perfection. His character, split into tiny particles that were put together later and polished, became different. As the time passed, Gryvon almost stopped having a sense of fear, considering this emotion as something unwanted and out of color. No, sometimes, of course, he did remember it was there, but only for appearance's sake. However, the very moment Correon appeared at the doorstep of the hall of the Council, dirty, exhausted but alive, and Ashka, almost caught lying, had no better idea but to challenge the Regent, the sense of fear came back. Who could say the old fool, escaping all the obstacles will get free from the Marauders camp? Or that the Spellbinder will remember the Honor Code nobody had thought about for ages?

"Do you understand what you have just done? – Gryvon hissed when they left the hall and shocked Regents behind. - Ashka, it's not a duel with me. Maybe I had been daydreaming once, but Correon won't do it!"

"So you think I had to keep silent while he was talking to the Council about the journals? – the woman stopped suddenly and turned around so Gryvon almost ran into her. - Is it something I had to do?"

"Of course not, but…"

"But what?"

Gryvon sighed.

"Ashka, you have to understand, Correon is very powerful. Some years ago I saw what powerbolts he can generate. Do you want to the Wastelands? Fine. Because in a fair fight you have no chance against him".

"Who said this fight should be fair? – the Spellbinder smiled cunningly. - Gryvon, do you really think I'm such a fool?"

"What are you talking about?" – the young man was surprised.

Looking around in order to prevent their conversation to be witnessed, the woman took his hand and led him to the window.

"About the fight. I don't need a fair duel, - she repeated, - you'll take a small knife and make sure Correon's powersuit play a bad joke on him. You got it?"

He did. And he nodded, agreeing. What choice did he have? Either that, or she won't be a Spellbinder any longer and will be banished. And so will he, very likely. Correon, becoming a winner, will deal shortly with the ones who tried to overthrow him. And the Wastelands… Gryvon didn't want to go to this terrible lifeless desert at all. But he didn't want Ashka to be sent there even more… If they fail nothing will help, this fact was absolutely ruthless in its obviousness.

He took the necessary action, waited for the proper moment, did his best, cutting the wire on Correon's powersuit. No one noticed, neither the Council, nor Correon himself, entering the hall along with Ashka. The duel started…

…As the time passed, Gryvon almost stopped having a sense of fear, but the first powerbolt Correon fired, made him squeeze the balcony handrail with a death grip. This damned hopeless situation they were in… This pride of hers…

The second spark reflected with a shield, made Ashka sway. Taking a step back, the woman touched the duel circle line. Gryvon felt his heart performed a strange somersault and fell somewhere… His grip on the handrail became even stronger…

And then… Then the disheveled wires on the belt of Correon's powersuit finally entered into the action. Understanding nothing, the man looked at his hand, where tiny lightnings were shining chaotically. Gryvon understood that only now he was able to take a breath. He played his role perfectly. All Ashka had to do was just to finish it masterfully…

Nothing interrupted them. Even Paul, appearing out of the blue and shouting about the sabotaged powersuit was helpless. Gryvon smiled, already celebrating their victory and watching Ashka going to the flying ship. Very soon there will be one Regent less. Or more? In a broader sense it was the first time they could take a breath during the last year. The year passed after that story… Well, her dream came true; she became a step closer to the goal. Ironically, it was Correon who was the weakest link in the Council, so it was easier to start from him. And speaking about Gryvon… The young man grinned. There will always be a place for him, next to the Spellbinder, to enjoy her glory beams…

… For quite a long time Gryvon considered the sense of fear as something unwanted and out of color in his emotions armory. But before the day was over the young man realized he was to quick to have such thoughts. No, he didn't have time to get scared, hearing Ashka's screams from the dungeon, he didn't get scared seeing her hanging on the power station grating, where the electric sparks were rushing in their violent dance. In the blink of an eye he put his powersuit off, thinking that normally it would have taken more time, and ran closer. He wasn't scared. At all. And only the endless long seconds when other Apprentices appeared in the dungeon, when he caught the Spellbinder, made Gryvon realize how scared he really had been. Images of all the previous years, when some unpleasant fright hidden inside him showed itself, became now pathetic and colorless. The fright he felt now was prominent and bright. Just some seconds… Gryvon hadn't have any time to think about the situation in the dungeon, he looked at the woman anxiously, and then – at the silent power station. He might have been too late…

It was about Paul and Riana, he had no doubts. Taking several steps of an old stair at a time, he rushed outside. But then he turned around. Ashka was standing several steps lower, with her eyes closed and one hand resting against the wall.

"What happened?" – worried, Gryvon went to her.

"Nothing, - the woman said quickly, - it will be all right soon".

Seeing the Apprentice didn't believe her words, the Spellbinder went upstairs first.

"Gryvon, I can take care of myself, for now we have to catch those two".


	22. Story 22 Compromising

**Story 22. Compromising. **

**W**hen Paul and Riana had jumped from the bridge into the rushing waters of Aiden, Gryvon froze for a moment. He was overwhelmed by very conflicting feelings, that were running and crushing each other. One the one hand it could mean they were finally free from the boy. The river here was more than just dangerous, but full of many sharp rocks. On the other hand, he didn't want Riana to have such a fate. True, he'd been fed up with her after these last days. This nosy little girl. But they knew each other, they had been almost fiends once, and neighbors…

Walking along the river side, the young man was watching the clear water, hoping to find the bag Paul had taken with him. He wished the unfortunate camera the boy had had, which he and Ashka now depended on, had drowned. However, according to the fact that the Spellbinder was going to keep looking and Paul and Riana had always appeared with an amazing stubbornness in the least proper place, it wasn't a good time to relax. She was right. They wouldn't have any rest until they'd be sure the camera doesn't exist any more.

Walking for quite long, he looked at the sky and realized it was getting dark.

"Gryvon, we come back!" – Ashka called him, staying in the distance.

"Are you sure?" – he ran to her.

"I hope so, - the Spellbinder answered shortly, - either we are lucky and those two had drowned, or a misunderstanding will be waiting for us very soon. Anyway, - she looked at the sky, - we'll hardly find something at night".

And that was the truth that made them go back to the castle. Thinking about their fate and the damned camera, Gryvon felt he had not the most pleasant emotions about Paul. Of course Ashka with her super-intuition had been right saying they would meet the boy again. And saying they had to wait for a proper moment, she must have had a second sight. Paul coming to them from his parallel world was that very moment – the element that allowed them to act against the Council. And Ashka, defeating Correon, became closer to her goal than before.

At the same time Gryvon did realize their country had been quieter before Paul appeared. And more peaceful. Not that he didn't like adventures, no. But the adventures against him were not the most attractive. The young man laughed. Paul in his young age had already became an idealist. The idealist that came to a different world and draw the line between "good" and "bad" guys. Talking to him or justifying themselves was absolutely useless – firstly, it's too humiliating. Secondly, everyone has their own truth…

It seemed Aaron didn't think so. Because the next morning Paul escaped, going back to his own world and giving the camera to Riana's father who was declared as the enemy of Spellbinders. Because Ashka's fury had gained momentum and as a result his "almost friend's" house was burned. Because in order to avoid the possible problems and contacts with Bron her family was locked up. The summoner went to his son gloomily. Man's eyes had everything – disapproval, despair, anguish. And regret.

"If I could knew what monster that delicate flower will become, I would have thought better than let you be an Apprentice, - Aaron said, - you chose the wrong path, son".

Gryvon faced his mournful glance, saying nothing. What could he tell? He didn't care? He promised Ashka to help and overthrow the Council? He was going to follow her even to the Wastelands? His father won't understand, so is it worth trying? Anyway, it was too late to think about something that could have happened, "if…". He was twenty-one. And he had made his decision long ago, choosing this wrong path…


	23. Story 23 Failure

**Story 23. Failure. **

**N**obody saw a strange bearded man near the castle… Nobody noticed him to enter the castle… The guards distracted by a Marauder appearing suddenly, left the gates unattended. Gryvon had been ordered by Marna to go and find Ashka, he didn't suspect anything bad… Of course, the Regent was in a bad mood, but Gryvon considered this fact was caused by a potential message from Clayhill. True, Aaron, who watched the Bron's house had been burnt, could tell about it.

And only later, in the dungeon, when the Spellbinder, going to the hall of the Council, ordered him to find out where the camera was, he felt as if something pushed him. Looking at Maran and Bron for the last time, he waved goodbye to the order and followed the Spellbinder. In contrast to her, Gryvon had never had to strong intuition or something like that. But now he just felt he had to go fast, with no idea what made him do it…

Upstairs it was already over. Ashka, running from the hall of the Council, didn't waste any time to ask what Gryvon was doing there. There was no time for that, no time for anything. It had happened. The Regents had the camera…

He grabbed her powersuit, feeling he will hardly have time to give it to her. In the courtyard the Spellbinder turned to him, sitting on Dusk horseback. Just a little more… but he didn't reach her, falling. And then one of the guars caught him. Marna ordered to close the opened gates… Raising his head, the young man saw that Ashka, giving the horse a twister, passed by the guars on the way to the spur bridge. Black-and-red silhouette, blurring into a tiny spot, vanished… for the umpteenth time his heart performed a strange desperate somersault during these last days. From now on the castle where Ashka had lived for so many years, was closed for her. From this day she was a criminal…

"Correon, in the name of all the Regents put together, how were you able to survive in the Wastelands?" – Marna exclaimed, having now almost no her usual self-restraint.

The old Spellbinder laughed, looking at her and Lukan. Refreshed now, he was not in a dirty peasant clothes, but in his full satin uniform the members of the Council had usually been wearing.

"We will talk about it later. Just three of us, with no witnesses. And for now, - he turned to Gryvon in the center of the room with two gloomy guards behind his back, - we have to solve a problem".

"There's nothing to solve, - Lukan interrupted him, - the boy is guilty, as well as his dear teacher. They both should be banished".

Marna hesitated, looking at him thoughtfully.

"I agree with you, Lukan. But Gryvon is still just an Apprentice…"

"So what? – The man was surprised. - И что? – удивился мужчина. - Come to your senses, Marna, this is treason! And his rank doesn't release him from responsibility".

"However, he's not as guilty as Ashka, - Correon said, - we will always be able to banish".

Lukan sighed.

"Correon, I appreciate your loyalty, I really do. But just think of it – twelve years ago your foregoers and I had been sitting in this room, at this very table! We had been deciding the fate of that very boy, and this, - he pointed out to Gryvon with his palm, - this is where it led us!"

Pause.

"I don't want you to think I am biased, - the Regent continued, - but sometimes I think Gareth made a big mistake. However if you have a different opinion…"

"I understand you, Lukan, - Marna said carefully, sitting between two men, - but I suppose, it will be fairly, if Correon decides what to do with Gryvon. Punishment can be different".

"You are absolutely right, - Correon agreed, - indeed, punishment can be different. In some way it is also my fault, - he said quietly, just for Regents to be heard, - anyway, it can not be changed now…"

Nodding to his own thoughts, the man stood up.

"I suppose, Gryvon will be a servant for some time, here, in the castle. Then he'll go back to the village and help Bron to rebuild a new house. He will live as any other peasant and remember what a life with no privileges is. If everything goes right, it well may be, he will have his rank back…"


	24. Story 24 New plan

**Story 24. New plan. **

"**A**nd if I don't come back, no one will know what you've done", - the Spellbinder said, looking at him. Gryvon wasn't surprised, hearing about this crazy idea to go to Paul's world. Ashka had always had an extra plan, he saw it so many times. But the tought that she had come here only now stung anyway.

"Are you so sure of me? – He asked, hesitating. - What if now I could already had been banished?"

"What are you talking about? – The woman was caught by his intonation. - Gryvon, you want to play offended? Right, just in time. Or perhaps you did think that I will take the castle by storm, alone, with no powersuit, and retake you from the Council?"

He kept silent. Ashka shook his shoulders.

"What's wrong with you, eh? Anyway, you hadn't been banished. And if you need my apologies, - she hesitated for a second, - I am sorry. Yes, I am sorry that it happened. But one of us had to escape and give the other one a chance to know everything happening in the castle. It was you who became the other one…"

She looked at her Apprentice again. Without malice, without sarcasm. Without falseness. Looking her in the face, the young man saw that very young fairy, watching him from a stairs with her captivating green eyes. Fragile, defenseless and beautiful.

"Gryvon, we were going to complete it, - the Spellbinder said quietly, - so let's not draw back from our goal. I can not do it alone, and speaking about you – my rising will be yours as well".

He looked her in the face, realizing that the decision he had almost made became unimportant at once. That the chance Correon showed him that was to give him his rank back, became useless. That the wrong path became even more dangerous and led him further, giving no chance to come back.

"What are you doing to me, Spellbinder?" – the young man murmured, already knowing he was to agree…

And he agreed. He did it. Performed all the tasks. He took the powersuit, set the Eyestone… Opening the shining cover, the young man understood he had almost no regrets about his actions. It was as if his soul saw double, producing two conflicting entities. The first one showed itself not in a proper time and said his actions were illegal, giving him the images of his parents and Correon, who had nearly gifted him with freedom. Gryvon tried to crash this part of him, leave it in the shadows, not to deal with it, forget as something shameful. The second part of him… It "forgot" everything. But it remembered too much at the same time. The duel victory, which became their small triumph, the talk to Regents and new Council member initiation, the tears on his shoulder and the waterfall of silky ginger hair, the funeral pyre… And the moment something almost broke inside Her. When his wrong path became Their path…

He looked at the blurry dimensional gate which hid Ashka's powersuited silhouette. Now he could just wait. And hope they would succeed…


	25. Story 25 Respite

**Story 25. Respite. **

**S**he appeared some days later, at the same place where he had seen her last time. Actually, at first he didn't understand it really was she. Watching the bright color mixture beyond the gate, Gryvon decided at first there had been a mistake. What if somebody from Paul's world, his friends, for example, were there? But no, the blurry waves parted and the foggy silhouette became a familiar one. There were no doubts.

However, watching Ashka more closely, Gryvon became speechless for a moment. She was wearing a dress. But what a dress! Some strange bright attire, not the ground-length, with buttons at the front and no sleeves at all. The dress was absolutely stupid and seemed weird, but somehow she looked very good in it. Asking about how was everything and if she had any results, Gryvon threw careful glances at Spellbinder's exposed arms. Right now he understood all the beauty of the definition "graceful" that he had used to award her for so many times. And he also understood he was fascinated by this sight.

Her return was a short respite, a preparing for a bigger and more significant game than she had planned. Gryvon had had many questions and didn't know where to begin from. And if these questions should be asked now. It seemed her powersuit had been lost. And everything had gone not as good as he thought. Thinking that she would open the details later as usual, the young man went to Clayhill in order to find some ordinary clothes. Ashka would definitely arrest everybody's attention in this stupid and very impractical dress.

"I will wait for you here, hurry up", - she said, putting off the shoes with delight and throwing them to the ground. Only now Gryvon did understand the shoes were just like the dress – stupid and apparently very uncomfortable.

Everything went perfect and unnoticed. Even Riana, happy as a bird, running trough the village with the camera in her hands, didn't notice he took a shirt and pants from a washing line and also a pair of short boots…

"And what now? Have you thought about it?" – he asked, watching the trees. Everything was calm.

"Of course, - he heard from the spinney where she was changing, - at first you'll have to pretend one more time".

A bright dress fell next to Gryvon. He forgot he'd been going to clarify the details. But Ashka already continued.

"Now you should get dirty all over, - she said, appearing from behind the bushes and putting on the right boot on the run, - then you go to the castle and tell I have attacked you and hit with a powerbolt".

"What?" – of all the impossible ideas that moment it was the most impossible one. The Spellbinder dropped the second boot.

"Well, do it louder, Bron's family haven't heard you yet", - she hissed, lifting the boot and pulling up her left trouser leg. He saw a slender leg with pale almost shining skin, narrow foot, long tender toes, smooth and so magnificent instep… The young man had noticed all these delightful nuances just in a second, and then gave a start.

"Gryvon, did you understand me?"

"Huh? Sorry, what?" – he shook his had, looking at her.

Ashka was almost growling.

"You'd better listen to me, not stare! – She exclaimed. - You must convince Correon to leave the castle. It's up to you how you are going to do it. Present me as a crazy monster, a public enemy, a newcomer – anything, but the old rogue should not stand on my way. Here's the dirt, by the way…"

Going to the bank of Aiden, which had been hidden among the trees, she pointed out at the wide clay lines near the water. Gryvon had no choice but to go forward, make a "proper" appearance…


	26. Story 26 Winners and losers

**Story 26. Winners and losers. **

**G**ryvon waited. All those days she'd been absent, he was waiting and guessing, what was happening in the mysterious parallel world Paul was describing to the Regents with such enthusiasm. How everything looks like? What is a life there? What do people do? And the most important thing, if Ashka will succeed this time?

The house of Bron was rebuilt. However, the young man still lived in the village, helping his father. Aaron's health deteriorated, either because he'd been worried about his son, or for some other reason. However, the Summoner tried to keep his spirits up. Perhaps, he hoped that without Ashka nearby his son would become obedient once again. And all his son's thoughts were about her and something they would have after she returned.

Riana had disappeared. Thinking about it, Gryvon decided that either she was in the castle (in a cell, he hoped), or somehow she had gone to Paul's world while the doorway had been opened. Unfortunately, the second option was very real. And bothered him very much.

Gryvon waited. And felt utterly useless. Now, here, in the center of Clayhill, he couldn't get any sense from himself. He could neither help, nor change the situation. Only now he did understand why Ashka hated inaction so much. It really was making him depressed, strangling with its prolonged constancy and tranquility, draining with a viscous lack of opportunities. One morning was replaced by another; he had been opening the doorway, watching the blurry dimensional hole for some time. Nothing. And just one morning, when he had outwitted Correon (as he thought), he set the Eyestone, hearing the familiar powerbolts crackling. Seeing Ashka he was ready to celebrate their victory, not noticing at first her frown or her hands tied behind her back. He didn't understand that victory wasn't Their one…

And then Paul and Riana followed the Spellbinder. Happy, bright and carefree. The winners. He gave a start. And then everything mixed into the whole pressing and tearing humiliating defeat. And Gryvon, led by a spontaneous wrong instinct, ran… But he was stopped immediately by Correon, appearing nearly from nowhere. The Regent loked stern and unapproachable, a harsh symbol of the lost war.

Gryvon didn't believe. Couldn't really believe it was true. That they lost indeed. That a strange boy followed by omnipresent Riana had been able to stop them for so many times and come through unscathed. That he, Gryvon, had been caught for the second time. That Ashka was standing next to him and not even looking at him. That moment he was ready to blame her for everything, having no idea why the fate had played such a bad joke. Correon was inviting Paul to visit the castle seriously. Oh yes, as if he would be waited for… Only the fact that the boy refused was quite a pleasant thing, however, it didn't change the situation…

Only later, when he'd been tied too and locked up in a shed, the realization that everything was true came in strong hitting waves. What will their future hold? What will happen? Why had he and Ashka been reversed with Riana so ironically?

"We can't escape from here, - the young man mumbled, - not this time".

Ashka said nothing, sitting on hay and even in the most desperate moment being self-controlled. It was too obvious to cinfirm.

The door of the shed was opened slowly. Aaron, standing at the doorstep, was impervious, but his mood could be guessed easily.

"Now you've done it, son, - the man said quietly, coughing, - I won't be able to defend you. And I don't want to".

Gryvon laughed silently.

"I don't care".

"Don't care? – Aaron exclaimed, leaning against the wall. - What happened to you? You don't care what your own future will be?"

"Da, don't start it…", - the young man winced. He looked at his father, desperately, boldly but calmly.

The Summoner, seeing such resistance, looked at the Spellbinder.

"Well, and what will you say? – He asked angrily. - Keep silent? You left honest people with no home. You made my son cross the line!"

"So now you consider Bron and his family as honest people, Aaron, - the woman looked at him with defiance, - it was you who was glad to catch them not so long ago!"

Anger rushed to his head. His hand went up. Sitting next to the opposite wall, Gryvon knew he wouldn't have time to stop this hand. But suddenly the door was opened again.

"Aaron!"

Three people turned around. Holding an Eyestone, Correon stood at the doorstep.

"We go to the Tower, I ordered the ship to come there, - the Spellbinder came closer, putting a hand onto Summoner's shoulder, - you'd better have a rest, let's go".

He left the shed. Aaron, watching him, turned to Ashka once again.

"I wished I could destroy you with my own hands, - he said slowly, coughing, - but I'd rather let the members of the Council do it…"


	27. Story 27 Double regret

**Story 27. Double regret. **

"**A**shka…"

Silence.

"Ashka!"

Silence.

"Say something…"

Silence. The cell was dark and quiet. There was a night sky in the narrow window in the recess. So strangely beautiful and unapproachable. His eyes got used to the darkness and distinguished the light shapes of the things around. Walls, floor, ceiling, straw everywhere… And a spot of the silhouette in the furthest corner.

"Ashka, I know you're not sleeping".

The silhouette in the furthest corner sniffed, still sitting in the same position.

"If you keep mumbling, I'll have to agree", - her voice sounded tired and aloof. But still Gryvon found himself smiling. At least, she was speaking for the first time in some previous hours. That was a success.

"What happened? – The young man asked. - You don't want to talk to me?"

Silence. Oh, here it is, again.

"Ashka?"

"Gryvon, can you vanish or at least sit here, silent?" – the woman asked. Now her voice sounded not just aloof, but also displeased.

"All right, all right, whatever you want, - he raised both his hands, - just tell me, what's the matter?"

"That's a stupid question. Look around – that's the matter, - Ashka said, - isn't it enough?"

It was. The contrast of the morning he'd spent in the village, and the evening when they went to the dungeon, was effective and seized them with a surprise. A stunning humiliating surprise. But there was something else…

"Gryvon, you run slowly", - Ashka said, as if she could read his thoughts.

"What?" – The young man gave a start, creeping up slowly. In the darkness he could see she'd turned her had and was watching him.

"You run slowly, - the woman repeated, - if you decided to betray me and save your skin, you'd better run faster. And look around also".

"So that's it…, - Gryvon sighed, - Ashka, I've already said it was an incident. I don't know how it happened. Well, yes… If you need to here it I was a coward, it wasn't the best thing I've ever done…"

Pause.

"Sorry for that".

Silence. Looking into the darkness, Gryvon saw only the line of her arms, embracing her knees. But he felt she was looking at him too.

"Ashka?"

"All right, - she scolded, - escape for escape. Let's think we are even…"

"Are you serious?'

"Should I change my mind?"

"No", - Gryvon said quickly, smiling. Good thing, he couldn't be seen in the darkness, or else he wouldn't get away with just some caustic comments.

"Then don't ask stupid questions, - Ashka said, - and bloody hell, keep silent, at last!"

She turned away from him. At first Gryvon had been going to obey, but his curiosity showed itself not in time. "Bloody hell…" What does it mean? What is this hell?

"Ashka?"

"What now?" – The woman asked sternly, looking at him again.

"Where did you pick up these words?" – Gryvon asked with confusion.

The dark silhouette laughed.

"In Paul's world, where else could I?"

"What is it like? – The young man, being on tiptoe with curiosity, crept up even closer. - Would you like to tell?"

The pause became too long, putting the possible continuation of their talk too far. Thinking Ashka was in no mood for speaking, Gryvon was going to come back to his place. But then he froze.

"It is strange indeed, - the woman started, - Riana had said Paul's world is huge… She'd been right. Perhaps the whole country of ours could be located there, - she sighed, almost drawing the line, - one should get used to this world, Gryvon. But it is possible to live there".

"And what about those computers Paul had described? Did you see them?"

"You're like second Correon, - Ashka said sarcastically, - he was also interested in computers while questioning me alone".

"Oh really? Wait… What do you mean with "alone"? – The young man was suddenly caught by the phrase. - Weren't all the members of the Council there?'

"They were at first, - Ashka clarified, - and then Correon decided to talk to me face to face…"

Pause.

"So what?"

"He asked me questions, this is what! – Ashka exclaimed and added quieter. - He also said he felt sorry".

"What?" – Gryvon asked, thinking he heard it wrong.

"You got it perfectly, - the woman put the hair back from her face, - before I was led there, Correon had been telling about some law. And then he sent Lukan and Marna off…, - she laughed, - it was almost touching. He said he felt sorry about everything happening this particular way. And that he'd wished he could do it back".

Pause. Gryvon didn't hope to be lucky, but anyway, he crept up closer and sat next to Ashka. Strange, but she wasn't annoyed by this fact.

"What's done is done", - I said. And added that his regrets are too late, - the woman said quietly, - for a year".

She kept silent. He also said nothing. There were too many toughts and too much time until the morning comes… one could hardly say Gryvon didn't have any gear at all, no. At the same time, when he told his father he didn't care, it wasn't an exaggeration. Now, when they had a battle won and a war lost, he was even happy. Happy that he had been useful, even for not very long. Happy that Correon, after being in the Wastelands, concluded something, even if it was too late. Happy that Ashka was next to him and wasn't angry anymore. Happy that everything was over…

There was much time until the morning comes. Sitting on stiff straw, with his back against the cold stone wall, Gryvon was waiting. Waiting for the Council decision, which was to set their future…


	28. Story 28 Betrayal two months later

**Story 28. Betrayal (two months later). **

**T**hey had not been banished to the Wastelands. And no one could be banished anymore. The law Regents had been discussed before questioning Ashka, was about the future status of prisoners in the country. The first labor camp at Orchard riverside was their habitation and the place of doing correctional labor.

Staying in the terrible desert had really changed Correon. Thinking for a while, the Regent got some other Spellbinders involved in the work. Together they created special bracelets controlling the prisoners' moving. As for lawbreakers – they had always been there, the labor camp wasn't empty…

Preparation of fire wood, fishing and drying the fish… There was enough work for them. And the work was hard. The guards were always watching the tasks to be performed and nobody to laze. The Regents were notified about all the results of faults. In the daytime all prisoners were dispersing along the Orchard surroundings, and at night they were gathered in small huts, which the Council had ordered to build.

…The first days had been the hardest ones. The previous fault of Gryvon that made him to work in Clayhill didn't go too far to the past. The young man tried to convince himself his status wasn't the worst one; he preferred to think about it as a life in the village. Just some work, just the tasks… sometimes he succeeded in it. Sometimes not. Ashka, whom he helped, controlled her emotions also with varying success. Sometimes, when her shirt sleeve had been pulled up, the copper bracelet on the right wrist started shining mockingly, reminding her the present status. These moments the woman froze for several seconds, looking at the "jewelry" she couldn't put off with disgust.

During the first days they almost hadn't been talking to each other, getting used to the new conditions, each in their own. It was difficult to have a hut and gloomy guards around instead of the castle chambers and comfort. Performing the orders, in an absolutely mechanical way, Gryvon tried to guess, how long his punishment would be. How much time did he need, in the Council's opinion, in order to be forgiven? Months? Years? The whole life? Treason was a serious crime; he remembered it from the history course. And it would have a corresponding punishment…

"My ring!"

The voice of Ashka, who was washing her face near the water, made him freeze. Standing a little further and wiping away the sweat from his face, Gryvon turned around. The woman jumped to her feet and was putting off her short rough boots. The yong man gave a start. The gift of Gareth, the silver ring, which, despite the Lukan's objections ("The criminals should not have any privileges!") she'd been allowed to keep, the ring Ashka had always been wearing, vanished.

Before Gryvon was able to reach her, the woman ran into the water, slipping on the uneven bottom, observing the fast waves, looking around in a desperate try to find the ring. Putting off his own boots, Gryvon followed her.

"Ashka, wait!"

"I'll find it! I have to!" – She said stubbornly, making strokes through water and taking up only small flat stones.

"Hey, what's happening there? – The other prisoners and the guards, having their dinner at the riverbank, noticed the commotion too. - Where do you think you're going?"

"We've lost something, - Gryvon shouted, turning to them, - so we have to find it!"

"What was it? – Imola asked, being the closest one to the water. - We can help you".

The young man just waved it off, going to Ashka's direction carefully across the river rocks. She'd already been wet from head to toe, but still she kept looking, going further and further from the bank.

"Gryvon, what are you looking for? – One of the guards asked. - It's time to work again, get out from there, you two!"

Hesitating for a moment with no idea what to do, he made a step forward.

"Gryvon! Ashka! Come here now! Stop doing this rubbish! Or do we need to force you come here?"

The young man, not bothered with the call, came closer to the woman.

"Ashka, I'm sorry, - he said quietly, gently touching her wet shoulders, - we won't find it".

"I must, - she mumbled, looking at him desperately; as far as he remembered, she'd had such a desperate look just once, - Gryvon, this is the last thing I have!"

"I know, - he nodded, - and I am really sorry…"

Squeezing her elbow gently, he led the woman to the riverbank.

"Come on, I'll help you with your work".

He hated these staring people right there, hated those stupid guards, which were in no mood as usual, he hated himself right now more than anyone else. He led her back and felt everything was boiling inside him. They do not understand. Nobody will, except him. Nobody knows what "rubbish" it was. The last particle of the memories. The last thing left from Gareth, from that life in the past…

Some days later, when he was taking the firewood into the camp, being hurried by a guard, a horse neighing was heard from behind the trees. Before Gryvon became ready, someone in a powersuit appeared, riding a beautiful white horse. A guard bowed, pushing Gryvon in front of him that made him kneel at once.

"Good afternoon!"

He raised his eyes, not expecting to hear this high voice at all. On the horseback, in Spellbinder habit and a shining powersuit, with her light curls combed back… Nathia was sitting. Beautiful, happy…

"Good afternoon, Gryvon, - the girl repeated, - don't you recognize me?"

Gryvon, pushed by a guard, nodded quickly.

"I do… Spellbinder", - he added slowly, as if trying the suddenly unfamiliar word and how it went together with Nathia. For now it went not too successfully.

The former Apprentice dismounted and gave the reins to the guard.

"Leave us alone".

"But Spellbinder, - the man tried to object, - the prisoner must work. And I can't leave him".

"Didn't you hear me? – Nathia's voice beame louder, her left eyebrow raised. - You'd better look after my horse. Eventually, I've got a powersuit and can watch this prisoner to come back to the camp!"

"Yes, Spellbinder", - bowing quickly, the guard led the horse to Orchard.

"That was skillfully done, - Gryvon gave a whistle, - as far as I remember you said you'd never be able to command other people".

Nathia smiled carefree and shrugged.

"Everybody grows up. As far as I remember, you'd been afraid of exams".

Gryvon grinned.

"Yes… Congratulate you with your initiation, - he looked at her powersuit, - now you look serious".

"Really? Thanks".

They became silent at once, stopping a stock phrases exchange. The girl straightened her powersuit belt and looked at Gryvon again.

"How are you here?"

"Quite all right, - he nodded reticently, - work-break, work-break. Almost as it was in Clayhill".

"Only it is not Clayhill…"

"Oh yes, - he laughed, - there's no big difference except the fact that guards are ready to smash your head for some fault, and the bracelets that enable flying ships to search and explode us".

"Oh, Gryvon, don't say such things! – Nathia mumbled, wincing. - That sounds too terrible".

"That is life, Nathia, - the young man answered, - I have nowhere to run from it".

"Gryvon! – Girl's lips trembled. - Do you want to spoil our meeting with such a talk?"

He sighed.

"No, I don't. But I've got no idea what to talk about. You know how I am. It is all right. You seem to be even more all right".

The girl smiled.

"That's true. But you still don't know why I am here. And it is very important".

"And why?" – Gryvon became interested.

Nathia's eyes shined.

"I want to help you get free from here!" – She whispered enthusiastically, looking around.

The young man froze.

"How do you think it is possible? You want to help me escape?"

"Gryvon, with those ideas of yours you don't even think everything may be done legally? – His companion chided him gently. - is it really necessary to escape?"

He realized he'd lost the thread of her arguments.

"In the name of Regents, how else can I go out from here? – The young man exclaimed. - Don't you think the Council would want to justify me?"

"That's it! – Nathia confirmed. - To justify, Gryvon! You will have everything back – your rank, room, your servants, that previous life!"

He froze, leaning against the tree.

"How?"

"This case, - the girl started speaking, - has too much uncertainty. The Regents sent you to the labor camp, but the questioning had been too superficial. I took the liberty of speaking to the members of the Council…"

"You?" – He couldn't believe his ears.

"Yes, - Nathia smiled calmly, - I convinced them to listen to you once again".

"But two months have already passed…"

"That means nothing. The thing is they almost agreed to listen. Try a little more – and you'll get this right! Tell them it was a mistake, you were crossed up".

"What? – His attention became alert. - What do you mean with it?"

"Gryvon, - Nathia sighed, - agree, this is your chance. Ashka did cross you up, who else? She inspired you with wrong ideas; she made you a pawn in her game. And you believed her. And you didn't want to make anything bad actually…"

"Oh no! – shaking off the rest from him, Gryvon went to the left fire wood. - Nathia, are you crazy? Nobody crossed me up!"

"Gryvon, - the girl made a pleading gesture, - please, come to your senses! I am sure this is a way for you to be free!"

"Stop it, Nathia, I don't want to think about it!"

"And what about me? – The girl stood still, becoming small and fragile at once, just like he saw he for the first time. - Or you don't want to think about me too?"

Coming closer, Nathia put a hand on his shoulder, not bothered with the cleanness of Gryvon's shirt.

'Your hands will be dirty".

"I don't care, - she said shortly, - Gryvon. Don't you like me at all?"

Her enormous eyes were so close, dark blue, calling, pleading.

"Nathia, you are wonderful, - Gryvon said, - and…"

"…and we've always understood each other, - the girl continued his phrase, - remember, I read you my poems, remember! And we were riding horses through this forest…"

He smiled.

"That's it, you're smiling! – Young Spellbinder announced happily. - And do you remember as we used to keep silent and understand each other by doing this? You remember?"

'Yes, - he nodded, smiling, - we were almost children".

"But that doesn't matter, - inspired, she took his hand. Lifted it, touching a work-worn male palm. Then put it to her chest, to the Spellbinder symbol…, - Gryvon, I will do anything for you, I just want to help!"

"I know, - he said tiredly, agreeing, - but…"

"No, - Nathia interrupted him, touching his lips with her finger, - no "buts". Please, don't answer now, all right? Just say you will think about it".

Feeling as of being bounded, he nodded. It was impossible to argue with Nathia, he'd realized it long ago.

"All right, I'll think about it".

The girl smiled.

"Fine. Thank you, Gryvon, - looking back at the road, she waved with her hand, - we have to go back, me – to the castle, you – to the camp".

They went back to Orchard slowly. Carrying the fire wood, Gryvon knew it was useless to argue with Nathia. He'd rather give in. But could he know that behind him two green eyes were watching him from spinney? That Ashka had heard every single word of theirs? That tomorrow two weird strangers will appear in the country, with so Paul-like clothes and pronunciation? That they will appear in a strange boat – a trans-dimensional boat that promised a chance to get free?

Gryvon knew nothing about it, and only the next day, when Ashka, turning to him for the last time, disappear in white-and-blue sparks, taking the boat to a different world, a blow will hit him with its terrible deafening power. She left… That's all.


	29. Story 29 Emptiness and pain

**Story 29. Emptiness and pain. **

"**I** give up, I give up! - He shouted, seeing the guards in the distance. - In the name of Regents, just turn this thing off!"

The ship was tailing Gryvon, firing the powerbolts several times and nearly scorching his face. Rocky footpaths were entwining and tangling under his feet, his heart was pounding loudly in his chest, and his thoughts… Oh, right now he preferred to think of nothing, concentrating on a rather lucky return to the camp.

She couldn't… That was impossible! It was some sort of a strange idiotic bad joke! That was unfair! Why?

"Why?" – He didn't even notice he said it aloud.

Of course he got his troubles in the camp. The commotions after prisoners' escape had already reached the castle. The ship was sent for him quite soon.

"This time you really failed, Gryvon", - the guards laughed, pushing him to the Tower stairs.

He didn't care. For the first time in so many years Gryvon didn't imagine and wasn't bothered with his future. There was a forest glade in front of his eyes, and those three, which were holding on the boat rails, disappearing in blindingly bright sparks. And his own shout:

"Ashka, wait!"

Strangely enough, the Council wasn't raging or storming. And was oddly quiet.

"I don't know… It seems to become a tradition, I suppose, - Lukan rolled his eyes, seeing the prisoner followed by two guards, - for an umpteenth time we are sitting in this hall in order to find out what you've done and how to deal with it".

"Lukan, please…, - sitting in the center, Marna stopped him gently, - Gryvon, where's Ashka?"

Silence.

"Gryvon, do you hear me?"

One of the guards pushed him with his elbow.

"She just vanished…, - before the next question could follow, he clarified, - she went to a parallel world with those strangers".

The Regents looked at each other.

"Was Paul one of them?" – Correon spoke.

The young man shook his head.

"No. But these people were from a different world".

"Why hadn't they been led to the castle? – Correon continued. - I ordered to send a ship for them".

Silence.

"It seems Ashka didn't plan to allow the strangers appear in the castle, - Marna laughed, looking at silent Gryvon, - am I right?"

Nod.

"And once again you did break the law, Gryvon, - Lukan concluded tiredly, - dear members of the Council, what should we do? Should we keep turning a blind eye to it? Or, perhaps, you, Correon, had been too fast with that new decree?"

"I suppose, - Marna said, - we'd better leave everything as it had been. Gryvon comes back to the labor camp and gets some extra work for trying to escape. You have to understand, Lukan, - seeing the Regent was going to object, the woman raised her hand, - we can not repeal the law. We would lose our face for the whole country. And as for Gryvon, - she looked at him quickly, - our fugitive has already punished himself. And more than you think".

All three people kept silent at once. Gryvon stood in the center of the hall, waiting for their decision obediently. He didn't care. Even if they repeal the law. Even if he's banished to the Wastelands as a good example, showing that playing to the Council may end badly. His first shy hope that everything was a misunderstanding, some terrible joke – faded. And he'd been waiting, hoping that now, yes, right now the lightnings would dance in the air once again and the boat would appear in white-and-blue sparks. That she'd just failed, had been frightened, had no time… But nothing happened. The lightnings were not dancing. The sparks were not appearing.

He gave a start and listened to the Regents discussing:

"…I can not forgive him right now, - Lukan said, - but at least Gryvon saved our country from "plague" that makes me very happy".

Marna winced, knowing whom he meant with the word "plague". The whole court knew about Lukan's harshness and lack of self-restraint.

"Let's leave everything as it is, - Correon repeated Marna's offer, - I agree that it is a best solution".

Seeing their approval, he nodded to the guards behind Gryvon.

"Take the prisoner away…"

He came back to the camp. And everything went on, but in a different way. Work-break, work-break… Gryvon tried to concentrate on the orders only, taking the fire wood, fishing, helping other people… It was like Clayhill but it wasn't Clayhill. Sometimes his self-possession betrayed him, and the anger was leaking into his soul. Why? Why did she do this to him? Wasn't he loyal? Didn't he perform all the tasks of hers, ready to go through fire and water for her sake? Didn't her deserve her trust or mercy at least?

He felt hurt. But that pain wasn't physical, it didn't go away, becoming stronger, pulsating, and not allowing to forget about it. One could think his life had already been wonderful! Sometimes, when this pain was unbearable, he thought about Her. How he wanted to change their places. And let her feel the same pain, hot and tearing. And then he crushed this feeling inside, leaving it "for later", for the next time. The anger faded, his hands started the work again. And for a sort period of time it seemed that nothing had happened. That everything is the same: work-break, day-night, river-forest…

And then it was starting all over again. And white-and-blue sparks were dancing in front of him. And the circle was closing, leaving him without an exit…

Days passed. One by one, one by one, shaped into weeks… His pain was joined by some strange viscous emptiness. The anger was till there, but it became less evident, some shades paler. Now Gryvon considered himself as a mechanism, thinking only of work more and more often, crushing the thoughts he couldn't escape from. And he succeeded. Sometimes.

Nathia, whom he did promise to think, went to Orchard for several times but never spoke about what happened. She was very quiet, throwing quick sympathetic glances at former Apprentice. Indeed, they were able to understand each other in silence, and right now Gryvon was very happy about this ability. Happy that nobody asked him questions or tried to help. Nobody pried into his feelings.

Gryvon waited… Waited for something that could dilute his monotony existence. All the days were similar to each other, identical, grey. Ordinary. Not that he had a chance to be lazy, but sometimes he felt that all the brightness of his life – everything that fulfilled and made it really significant – everything vanished. And then he started working with his enthusiasm doubled, already aware where such thoughts could lead and what could follow them.

In the camp he wasn't asked any questions. They asked for help but avoided any sensitive issues. Gryvon got used to look as he never could before – something dangerous appeared in his eyes that made people think twice before starting a conversation and choose words properly.

Time passed. In six months the news came – his father died. "He'd been unable to endure the shame" – someone in the labor camp said. However, Gryvon knew that his father, who had seen his son as a great glorious Spellbinder in his dreams, could stand anything. But did he really want…

He'd been too stubborn, proving more stubborn than his illness. He didn't want to live thinking that his child could sink so low, that he was serving the sentence so close, in the labor camp. That he'd broken the laws he used to obey to, because he was brought up in discipline. That his family hadn't notice that point of no return, when a Spellbinder's future became the future of a prisoner…

As it had happened the previous time, the funeral went without his presence. And Gryvon was very happy with it. It was an advantage of his status. Now Gryvon envied himself that he hadn't seen how it had happened…

Months passed. One by one, one by one, shaped into year… One year passed, colorless and unnoticed. Then – another one. When the third year was coming to its end and Gryvon almost got used to his "mechanical" existence, losing the track of time, time itself decided to have pity on him. Gryvon got his freedom.

At first he didn't believe. Then understanding came finally. Then he found himself at Orchard road, among the forest, thinking of where to go and what to do. First of all he had to come to Clayhill; at least, his home was there. Then he would think about other things.

Thinking that was the perfect option, he went to Clayhill. The understanding of his freedom was small and pale, meaning and promising nothing yet. Gryvon had spent almost three years in a labor camp, obeying to others' commands and orders, so now he had no idea what to do with this freedom. Stay in Clayhill? Go back to Easthill, where he'd been born? Doing as he got used to, leaving these questions "for later", he decided to deal just with the present moment now.

It was an evening. The sun went down, casting a golden light onto trees and bushes. Birds were singing somewhere. Life with all its beauty and diversity was passing by, to the right and to the left, in two bright wide lines. But the young man, walking along the path, seemed to stay between these lines, in some neutral ground, where there were no colors, birds or the brightness of the world around. Three years… Three years had passed, but it changed nothing. The anger faded, replaced by the emptiness. Some capacious painful emptiness, which seemed like the Wastelands. There was a desert inside him, and memories which didn't grow dim or fade in time. Though he did try to get rid of them.

He remembered everything. First visit of Gareth to their village, which had started the whole story. His first evening in the castle… Every single day, every bright detail. They were left in the past… In the life "before"…

He asked himself, what had happened to Her, afraid to say this name even mentally. Ashka… Where was she now? Had she ever though about him, just once? Because he had thought about her. The moments when he wasn't able to leave "for later", Gryvon was always thinking about her.

He'd been waiting at first. Then he hated, despised her. Then he waited again, trying to understand, find the detail he'd missed, realize what he did wrong. The hatred faded – the pain stayed. Sharp at first, it became dull later. As if a deep wound got scarred, reminding him of what had happened from time to time…

…The night had almost come when he reached to village. It was quiet and mild. He met some peasants on his way, looking at him strangely. Either the pretended or they didn't recognize him. Gryvon, whose hair became longer, knew he looked different. He also knew that Clayhill would be different for him.

There was no one near his house. No one had tailed him; no one was coming to him. Those people he'd met would definitely spread the news throughout the village, but at least for now he didn't have to worry about nosy people irruption or stupid questions.

Sighing, Gryvon pulled the door. Could this quiet be long?

The house was dark. Pale light was coming inside through an opened window. A person was sitting at the table near the wall, with head resting on hands. Hearing the door opening the stranger woke up and looked at him. The light from an opened door fell onto the guest's face. Gryvon gave a start.

"You?"

"Me, - Riana nodded calmly, sitting at the table, - hello, Gryvon".

They were watching each other for several moments. The girl was in the Apprentice uniform, with an accurate hair bun. She'd matured, looking even prettier and still rather serious.

Shaking off the stupor, he entered the house.

"What do I owe your visit to, Apprentice?"

Riana didn't seem to be offended by his sarcastic intonations.

"Regent Correon sent me here, - the girl explained, - today is your release day. I have to see if everything is all right…"

"And what can happen? – He asked with dramatic indifference. - Or does the Council think I'd run and be silly?"

"Gryvon, don't do this, - Riana stopped him, - I understand you don't want to see me. I must confess I wasn't also too thrilled about going here".

"So there was no need", - he snapped. He had nothing against Riana, even the moments when she, stubborn as a mule, had stood on their way. He hadn't born her ill will. But right now, here, that very moment she reminded him of those many things he had tried to hide in his scarred wound. Gryvon felt the edges of this wound gape apart dangerously…

"It was an order. Orders are not discussed, - the girl answered, - sit down, please, we have to talk".

"Riana, you'd better leave, - the young man said sternly, folding his arms on his chest, - what were you doing here, anyway?"

Girl's eyes, not too small at all, became even larger.

"What was I doing here? Gryvon, together with Arla and Jal I've been looking after your house for two years! – She exclaimed. - Now sit down and listen!"

He didn't argue, sitting down. While Riana was lighting the candles on the table, he got a chance to look around properly, realizing that his house seemed really all right. Everything was clean, the roof was good, walls, things… everything was all right and where it should be. And no signs of spider web at all.

"Thanks", - that was all he could say.

"Don't mention it, - Riana waved it off, sitting down again, - that would be a horror to come here and find these walls out of condition".

Pattering with her fingers on the table, she kept silent for a moment.

"Gryvon, the members of the Council were deciding what to do after you're released. That was difficult. It was Lukan who offered it, others approved… By and large, the Council is offering you to come back to the castle".

Gryvon thought he'd been hit with something heavy.

"What? – He breathed out. - Come back to the castle? Wait, what does it have to do with Lukan?"

"I only know that it was his idea, - the girl repeated and suddenly laughed, - maybe he will feel calm and safe this way. Or maybe it's time to change everything. You don't know but Lukan is going to leave his post in the Council".

"Oh really? And who's the successor?"

"Emerick, - Riana answered, - the order will be prepared soon. Perhaps, in the twilight of his reign he wants to put a full stop in this story".

Gryvon sniffed. If there was something he could hardly imagine, that was Lukan leaving the Council. On the other hand, it was even harder to believe Lukan was offering Gryvon to come back to the castle…

"Riana, that was a stupid idea, - he answered, - why did the Council approve it? And anyway, what will I do in the castle? I can not be an eternal Apprentice, so I can not return".

"And who's speaking about Apprenticeship?" – Riana answered with a question. Gryvon froze.

"Don't you mean I may become…"

"Not right now, - the girl said, - but why not? Eventually, you've been punished; you've paid for your mistakes. Is it fair to keep you punished forever? No, of course you may stay in the village, - she added quickly, - nobody's gonna prevent pr scold you for that. But I suppose it will be better if you go to the castle".

"Better for whom? – Gryvon looked at his companion seriously. - Them?"

"Better for you, - she objected, - I will not insist, you are free to choose. But whatever your choice is, the Council will accept it".

She stood up, ready to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To the castle, - Riana smiled, - Correon ordered me to wait for you and talk about the offer. Now my mission is accomplished".

She took a short black cloak from a bank and put it on.

"I brought some food, - she nodded to the vegetables and bread near the window, - good night, Gryvon".

"Good night, - he said mechanically when the door was closed, - Riana…"

The sound of hooves moving from the house told him that the Apprentice left. Looking at the empty and clean house, Gryvon sat down again. That was a stupid idea. What reasons did they have? Pity? Sympathy? Some other silly emotion? He had no answer and was happy with it, preferring to stay without details. But deep in his soul, in this kind of a desert with burning thoughts and memories there was a strange sudden feeling. Some sort of gratitude…

He made this decision. Not right away, no. nearly in a week. When he realized Clayhill was crushing him. In peasants passing by he saw disapproval and hatred. The Tower his legs were ready to go to was no in his dreams.

The peasants were really looking at him, - some with disapproval and hatred, some – with pity. Opinions differed. The first ones would rather have some fun, destroying the Summoner family belongings. But apparently the Regent had restricted to come close to Gryvon's house and cause any damage. All the scowling glances were usually cast from the distance.

He made this decision. He came back to the castle, having no particular idea of what to do there. He couldn't fly the ships. As well as use the powersuits. But at least nobody prevented him from visiting the library.

Books became a real outlet for Gryvon. His old textbooks, chronicles of old Spellbinders, the journals and powersuit schemes taken from the dungeons… He read everything, nearly swallowing one book by another, unable to understand, why not so long ago he'd been a silly boy who used to glance through books quickly, not thinking about his studies and not preparing for his exams.

Astronomy, geography, history… he was interested in history most of all. Sitting in his old room, near the fireplace, he was fiddling thoughtfully with a quill, which had already left some ink drops on a clean parchment. A book was clutched in his left hand, he was going to write out some extracts from it. Just in some moments Gryvon realized he wasn't writing, but… drawing. And when he realized it, a Tower had already been created, strangely realistic, with all the details. Looking at spontaneously drawn mountains behind the metal constructions, Gryvon understood it was Clayhill tower. How did he do it – he had no idea. But fact remained the fact.

Throwing the book aside, he clutched the parchment with both hands, ready to tear it and send into the fire. But something stopped him from it. Straightening a saved drawing, Gryvon put it on the table, examining closely. Then he went to the cabinet where new parchments had been kept, took one, rolling it out…

In the evening of the same day there was one more drawing next to the saved Tower – Clayhill view from the forest, covered with ink drops…

Another year had passed. The news about Gryvon's hobby, so sudden, spread through the castle. The Spellbinders hadn't had good artists among them very often, so they appreciated the young man's drawings. Some of the women even asked him to paint a portrait. Hearing these words for the first time, Gryvon had frozen, bumbling that he couldn't and wouldn't be able. Then his damned curiosity won – he tried. The result was unexpectedly successful; the second offer followed the first one. Then there was the third one. And then… Then his Initiation came like a bolt from the blue…

Gryvon felt as he had already once, when Ashka offered him to fly a ship. Was he happy? Did he feel nervous? It was difficult to say. He knew that it would happen sooner or later, when the Regents considered him as a deserving and worthy candidate. But he'd always thought it would happen later, not sooner. In some moment he felt sorry his parents weren't able to see this day…

Going to the bathroom, he looked at his reflection in a high absolutely clean mirror. His hair became even longer and covered his forehead with oblique wave. Thin mustache and a goatee made Gryvon look older. One would hardly believe he was only twenty-five. Black habit, red tunic with a shining sun of symbol on his chest… He reached out slowly, touching the smooth mirror surface. It seemed he was looking not at himself. Behind the mirror there was somebody else, a stranger. A man with no more boyish disorder in his eyes…

A dream of Malie and Aaron became true. But it took very much time in order to do it…

"Correon said that you showed him too handsome on that portrait, with a powersuit", - Nathia smiled while they were having their breakfast.

"Well, at least the powersuit looks realistic, - Gryvon answered diplomatically, - I had to work a lot on wiring".

"And you succeeded, - the girl inspired him, drinking water, - I am afraid, Emerick and Marna would also want such a wonderful present".

Chewing his roll, Gryvon gave a start dramatically.

"In this case I am condemned to hear they reject my drawings, one by one, - he joked, - Correon wasn't aware I was portraying him".

A short pause came.

"Would you like to be my model?" – Gryvon asked finally.

Nathia lowered her head shyly.

"That would be very kind. But I suppose, I won't be able to sit for so long".

"I can try and draw quickly, - Gryvon said with enthusiasm, - and anyway, I am interested in it. There's still no portrait of yours in my collection".

Nathia was really embarrassed.

"That's not difficult, don't be afraid, - the young man kept convincing her, - and it seems the portrait will be extremely successful. And as you know we understand each other in a best way by keeping silent".

Smiling a moment ago, the girl became sad at once.

"What is it? – Gryvon asked worriedly. - Did I make you upset?"

"Oh no, - she smiled. This was a fake smile, - it's all right".

Pause.

"Sorry, if you don't want, I will not speak about it", - Gryvon said carefully, thinking it was because of his offer.

"It is all right, - Nathia repeated, - the drawing has nothing to do with it".

"Then what has?"

Pause. This time a longer one.

"Nathia, tell me if something is wrong. We are friends", - in order to support her, Gryvon touched her palm. But this simple natural gesture made the girl even more upset.

"Gryvon…, - she whispered, looking at him with her eyes full of tears, - I have to tell you something".

"What is it? – The young man, shocked by her mood change, squeezed the girl's palm. - And why are you crying? Nathia, it's not worth your tears, whatever it is…"

"It is! – She sobbed, freeing her hand. - Oh it is! Gryvon, I did something terrible, really terrible!"

"What are you talking about? – The young man said, confused. - What terrible thing could you do?"

Nathia cried even louder, closing her face with her hands.

"It was me… it happened because of me… It was my fault…", - she mumbled, sobbing.

Tired of asking, Gryvon waited patiently for her to calm down. Taking her emotions under control, the girl started speaking:

"Do you remember Orchard road, when we met? You were carrying the fire wood", - she asked with a trembling voice, wiping away the tears from her flushing cheeks.

"Of course I do, - he nodded, - but what does it have…"

"It has, - the Spellbinder continued, - I was not myself. Some days earlier I was going to Orchard. And I had almost reached the river when I saw you two in the water, - Nathia's voice trembled again, - you were looking for something. You were standing so close, in the middle of the river, you embraced her…"

Tears were running down her cheeks.

"That moment I had nearly gone mad. I knew, I knew that you don't love me, but that image – it had been typed into my vision. So painfully clear. And I decided to have my revenge…"

Gryvon was listening, happy that he was sitting, not standing. His legs became weak suddenly. He listened, afraid to move.

"I made an arrangement with a guard in the camp, - the girls said, crying, - he had to tell Ashka you were waiting in the forest. And when we were there… Well, she was there too. She saw and heard everything…"

Putting her head onto hands lying on the table, Nathia cried. Bitterly and hopelessly. Gryvon sat near to her, afraid to believe that things he'd heard. Believe this nightmare. Nathia, his friend, the girl he'd known for ages. The girl that understood him even in silence…

"Why? – He said at last. - What for, Nathia?"

"For you, Gryvon, - she whispered, - for you! You have always been dear for me. I liked to look at you, hear, listen… but you've always accompanied that monster…"

"Monster? – He roared, standing up. - Monster? I have hated her for four years, considering as a betrayer that left me. Monster?"

Clutching his fists, he was walking near the fireplace.

"What have you done? – He shook the girl, making her to stand up in one movement. - In the name of Regents, Nathia, what did you want to achieve with it?"

"Gryvon, I…, - her lips were trembling, but the young man didn't care a second part of hysterics could be started, - I just wanted to quarrel you! I didn't think it could happen this way… I didn't want to lie, but I got so tired of it. Forgive me!"

"How? – releasing her, he clutched his fists again. - How do you think I should do it? You wanted to hurt her? You hurt us both! As hurt as it wasn't even possible!"

Turning from her, he went to the window slowly, leaning on the sill.

"Four years, Nathia… I didn't want to think of her for four years, - he said quietly, - I was ready to be banished for this woman. I started doing evil for her. And I was happy…"

Only now he allowed himself remember, making the burning memories in the desert accessible. Only now he understood, seeing again that scene on a forest glade… he had already made a decision, looking in his face… she had done it even earlier, telling him to wait for a signal.

"She's not a monster, Nathia, she had never been one, - he turned around again, observing his room, and then looked at the girl, - and you destroyed my life. It is you who is a real monster…"

"Gryvon, - sobbing again, the girl took a careful step forward, - I am really sorry. I didn't want to make an end like this. I thought she would come back as it had already happened. It had been this way!"

There were pain and defeat in her eyes. But Gryvon knew there were the same emotions in his eyes.

"She won't come back, Nathia, - he turned to the window again, - too late for that… Leave me alone, please; I can not look at you…"

She didn't need to be told twice. The door was closed quietly. Leaning against the window, Gryvon closed his eyes. Four years… he was late again. And again he wasn't able to change it…


	30. Story 30 End of waiting

**Story 30. End of waiting. **

**E**verything was repeated from the very beginning, so similar to the vicious circle he'd been in. But now it wasn't a prisoner's circle, it was a circle of Spellbinder Gryvon, bigger one and still so frighteningly close.

He couldn't believe he'd been so blind. How couldn't he not feel, not understand this game? Nathia was playing there, in the forest, sowing off for somebody. The image he left in his past so long ago, and the sudden explanation he got, overlapped each other, revealing the horrible truth. She had been playing, aware of someone watching them, aware of the fact that Gryvon would never speak harshly, seeing her constant fragility and tenderness. That he had to answer her according to her plan.

The young man scolded and cursed his own gentleness. Ashka saw and heard everything, she made her own conclusions and left him because…

He stopped, breaking his thought. "Because" what? There was something more than mercy? Gryvon used to be satisfied with those rare bright moments he'd got. So he didn't know what to do with it. He'd always considered his feeling as something one-sided that was normal. And Ashka… For her it must have been something like a habit. A comfortable habit, perhaps, a cozy affection. But what if he was wrong? She would hardly disappear just because of "a habit"…

Gryvon decided, as he got used to, to leave this question "for later", nit thinking of exact date. Who cares when to think about something happened? He had enough time now, time that he was to spend alone, scolding himself for foolishness and naivety that made him unable see the monster behind Nathia's gentleness. He would be able to think of it not once and not twice, luckily, fate gave him such a chance…

The girl felt guilty and seemed to avoid him, which made Gryvon very happy. The pain caused by a seeming Ashka's betrayal was not as big as the pain caused by very real Nathia's betrayal, which used and left him holding a bag. There was neither strength, nor wish to see her. And every time his wound edges gape apart even more.

He seemed to fall into some kind of a sleep, living day by day. Became "a mechanism" again. Waited with no idea what he waited for. Waited and thought about Her. For some time he started having nightmares. Every time the same – the forest glade, the boat where he's running, Ashka's look with a strange note of pain… Every time he was trying to get there, if not to run, so just to say that he understood it. That it was a mistake, and she got all wrong. And every time the boat was disappearing in a flash of light, making Gryvon wake up with a feeling that his heart was almost jumping out of his chest…

Leaving the castle in evenings, Gryvon sometimes came back to his house, not knowing what to do with it. Cleaned everything quickly, sometimes, when the weather was bad, he stayed inside. Once, looking through his old things, he'd found a broken Eyestone. The Eyestone he had usually played with, the Eyestone that had started everything. Looking at the favorite toy, Gryvon put it on the table carefully, hearing a tiny clink.

More often, if the evenings were fine, he was riding Whiteleg through Clayhill surroundings. Went to the Tower, reached Westfield or Rivertown, sometimes – Orchard or Valaphire. During those evenings he believed his half-asleep existence was stopping, as if an invisible membrane was becoming thinner, letting the light and fresh air and real life to go through…

Every place reminded him of Ashka, one way or another. Every place had a story connected with it. Gryvon had a lot of such stories; they were like some delicate little things, dear to the heart. And then his own story was following, separating them. Walking through the places where they used to go together, he thought of where she might be. In what world? What was she doing? Would she ever forgive him for something he wasn't guilty of?

Gryvon didn't know if he'd ever be forgiven. There was just one thing he wished so much – to know that she was fine; that despite her explosible temperament and a habit to use the powersuit in any situation she hadn't got into a pretty mess. That she was alive and all right. Knowing it he could probably get used to the fact they were in different worlds.

Once he was walking along Valaphire bank, where the river looked almost like a streamlet. Tying the horse to a tree, he walked near the water. The weather was wonderful and warm. Small waves were running across the rocks with a naughty splash, as if trying to catch him. Gryvon smiled, putting off his boots. A wish to become the boy from Clayhill he'd been once, was surprisingly strong. He threw his boots on the ground, walking to water barefoot, on little pricking pebbles. His thoughts became pleasantly neutral, his attention dimmed. Not looking under his feet, he didn't notice something sharp under his left foot.

"In the name of Regents!" – He exclaimed, drawing his foot back and sitting down. Luckily, it was just a tiny scratch, not worth worrying about. Looking at where the mysterious sharp stone had to be, Gryvon froze. In sand, among the dirty stones, darkened but still so familiar there was… Ashka's ring…

Not thinking, Gryvon grabbed it, clutching, afraid that the ring may vanish and everything would become just another nightmare. Something was drumming in his head… not able to believe, he unclenched his fist slowly, looking at the finding. There were no doubts, silver and ruby he had seen so many times. This ring could not be mixed up with something else.

He sat near the river for a while, admiring the found treasure. It was unreal, seemed to wonderful to believe. Nearly five years had passed… Nevertheless, he was holding it now. The most precious thing for Ashka. The most significant thing he had now. Looking at the sparkling stone, Gryvon felt that comfort was leaking into his soul filled with sorrow and pain. Not to strong comfort, but anyway…

That evening he'd cleaned the ring in his room, so it started shining like a mirror. Then he took a roll of parchment from the cabinet. Dipped the quill into ink. Took a deep breath. And then he was drawing, drawing, drawing… He was drawing the eyes under thin eyebrows, drawing the fine nose and full lips smiling mockingly. He was drawing the unique cheekbones, the delicate neck… He was drawing the wonderful hair, showing every lock accurately. Nearly in the morning, when he could hardly keep his eyes open, and the next day was coming, Gryvon put the parchment on the table. There was a heart-stoppinly real Spellbinder there…

Time passed. "Nearly five years" turned into "five years". Gryvon, whose drawings collection became bigger, lived similar day by day, not counting them. Who knows, perhaps that monotony would last even longer, interrupted by books reading, when time was stopping, or by another holiday, when a new date was cut from the bulk Yes, it could have happened, but one lucky chance changed everything.

Young Spellbinder remembered his twenty-sixth Birthday forever. Firstly, because this day he ironically saw Gareth in his dream. The Regent was sitting in a saddle, wearing the same black-and red cloak. Gryvon, standing in the distance, remembered it was useless to try and reach him. That could give him nothing. But strange, the rider, turning his horse, went to him. Slowly and gracefully. Gryvon waited. Stopping in the middle of a path, the rider nodded to him. The distance between them wasn't too big, so Gryvon could see the man was smiling. He said nothing, he did nothing. He was just sitting in the saddle and smiling. Warmly, friendly. There was no mist around like the previous time. And there was no that uneasy feeling. Waking up, Gryvon sat in his bed for a while, fiddling with his long hair and thinking of what this strange dream could mean.

That was the first reason why he was to remember this Birthday. And second one was because that very day his life was changed by chance.

The weather was strange, promising some rain but giving nothing yet. The preparation for the forthcoming Sun Holiday had already been started, but sluggishly and quietly. Gryvon, still thinking about his strange dream, ate his breakfast mechanically, not aware of the taste of the servants in the room. There was absolutely nothing to do. Wait, no, how could he forget? About a week ago Riana caught him in a corridor and asked whether Spellbinder Gryvon could draw a portrait of hers. Shocked by such an adversity, he said that he could. But a little later. Riana hadn't expected him to agree, so she thanked him happily and ran away, and Gryvon was left in the corridor, confused by more than a funny situation. If some years ago, when they had been fighting like children, divided into "good and bad", "right" and "wrong", one would had told him that Riana, catching everyone's enthusiasm, would ask to draw her, he would have never believed. He left her in a bath, tied, actually, threatening to banish. She'd been pulling the wool over his eyes for so many times, breaking all the plans… And now… a portrait. Just think of it!

Laughing, he took a heavy velvet folder from a shelf, where he kept the straightened parchments. Took a quill and the ink bottle. Perhaps, everybody had to grow up in this story and understand something. He liked to think that even that omnipresent Paul, staying in his parallel world, stopped being such an impossible idealist. Eventually, even Correon was able to change…

Gryvon straightened his sweater sleeve gently. On his left wrist he was wearing Ashka's ring, put onto the strongest lace he could find. He didn't trust caskets, hiding places or rubbish like that. Luckily, the style of sweater allowed such manipulations.

Taking all the necessary things, he went to Riana's room, which was already waiting. Smiling in her shy manner, the girl stood aside, letting him in. Her room looked like his own, but here he saw more little things saying the owner was a woman.

They kept silent awkwardly, not knowing what to expect. Sitting down the table, Gryvon took a parchment, preparing his workplace. Riana sat down opposite, ready to be still obediently.

"Put off the hairpins and make a ponytail, - the young man said, observing her. After all these years he got used to look as an artist – quickly, skillfully, catching all the significant details, - and put on that jewelry from Paul's world".

Riana was surprised as he understood by her raised eyebrows, but said nothing, putting on the chain and changing her hairstyle. Sighing, he began, warning her that he gets the drawing if she doesn't like the result. Gryvon watched the parchment and his model, drawing quick lines, making a shape of the face. Once his hand had been working by some miracle, now it was holding the quill quite skillfully, making no unnecessary spots or mistakes. Very soon there was very recognizable Riana, with a fine chain on her neck, smiling from a ready drawing.

"Here, - waiting for ink to dry, he gave the portrait to the girl, - does it fit?"

She looked at her copy for a while, smiling shyly.

"Oh yes. Thank you, Gryvon".

Later in the afternoon it became evident there would be not just rain. Somewhere in the distance a thunderstorm coming was heard. Gryvon thought that he would have time to get to Clayhill and see his parents' grave. That couldn't be for too long.

"You'd better stay in the castle, Gryvon, - Lans said, watching the young man from stable doors, - knowing you I can predict you'd spend the whole night there or get wet in rain".

"Don't be like that, - Gryvon waved it of, saddling up Whiteleg, - no one commands you when it's your Birthday".

"And what about supper? – Lans raised his eyebrows amazedly. - I know at least three people who would be happy to drink your health".

"I am able to return ten times before the supper, - Gryvon pattered his powersuit belt, where an Eyestone was placed, - and I am in touch. So I go".

Leading his horse from the stable, he mounted and trotted the animal to the gates. The long cloak put on the powersuit for potential weather surprises could save him from rain. And everything was quite all right, actually. Strangely all right. For the first time in five years Gryvon felt strange calmness, knowing that today was his Birthday. Previous dates had almost faded from his memory, spent in a half-sleep.

Nothing extraordinary was happening in Clayhill. He went to his parents' grave under the old branchy tree. Stood there, thinking of the things he regretted about, and the things that didn't need it. There was nobody to divide for and explain the choice. And the time was different. Whiteleg snorted, tied to a branch. She didn't care about her owner's thoughts, she had her own joys.

Nothing changed in his house. He opened the window, letting the fresh air inside, casting out some bitter aridness from the house. Old things, dishes, the broken Eyestone on the table… Gryvon didn't know what led him here every time. Memories? Nostalgia? Habit? There was no answer, just a desire to return here again and again, walking from house to the Tower and back.

When he left the house, the sky was already dark and it been raining. Putting on the cloak hood, the young man mounted. The bad weather was a little too fast, outpacing his plans. But he wasn't going to change his habit any way, forcing Whiteleg to take the familiar path.

Here was the Tower… Led by a sudden instinct, he set the opened Eyestone, not knowing what for it was, and then… A blindingly white lightning struck the stone platform where ships had usually been landing. Gryvon jumped back, horrified, putting his hands away from a metal construction. Electric sparks ran on the top of the Tower, and then…then similar sparks moved in the air suddenly, with a strange dry crackle, so unlike traditional thunder sounds. He raised his head. There, almost above the Tower, in the middle of the sky…

Suddenly a roar of some creature was heard and a huge dark silhouette appeared in the night sky right from thickened sparks. And it was flying! Feeling he had a real chance to go mad after such surprises, Gryvon took a step backward and fell, stumbling. He was lying on wet grass, looking at the things in the sky with a horror. He had heard about the creatures like the one that appeared. He had even read about them and knew that, according to legends, there had been the same creatures in their country long before Darkness. But Holly Regents, he could not imagine he would meet a real dragon one day!

Meanwhile, the dragon, terrible, huge and winged, behaved rather strangely. For a start it sat down on Clayhill Tower, folding its wings. In such an impossible situation Gryvon found the strength to laugh. In the darkness the creature's silhouette looked like a landed ship a little. However, "the ship" was driven out from the platform by a short jangle. Looking closely, Gryvon saw a rider on the dragon's back, in a helmet and a long mantle. Holding the chains bounded with the dragon's collar, the rider made the creature leave "the perch" and land on the ground slowly.

Gryvon stood up carefully, thinking that he'd lied enough. He shook off and looked at the strangers. Maybe it was a too long dream and he was still sleeping? And his enacted imagination decided to give him a more interesting image for a change, like this one?

Blinking, he shook his head and opened his eyes again. No, neither the rider, nor the dragon did disappear. On the contrary, the rider dismounted skillfully from "the horse", walking and looking around. Weirs metallic helmet and the long mantle hid the figure.

"Calm down, Harley, calm down. We will find where we are", - the stranger said, looking at the Tower. Gryvon gave a start. No, it was impossible… He was sleeping for sure. Or he hit his head, falling. It was impossible! That smooth low voice, he'd heard in his dreams and his thoughts for so many times, was too unique. Too special to be mistaken…

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he went forward, appearing from behind the Tower, in front of the unexpected guests. They also noticed him. The dragon let out a low roar, looking at the man with suspicion. As for the rider… Only now the young man got the chance to see a shining powersuit under the mantle. Just like his own. Watching him for several seconds, the rider put off the helmet slowly. A heavy wave of copper-ginger hair fell on the shoulders… The shock was in these green eyes. As strong as his own.

"Ashka…", - Gryvon whispered, feeling his voice tremble.

She hadn't changed at all. Her hair became longer, perhaps, and the rest… The same. Standing opposite her, he understood she was watching him too. Slowly, carefully, as if comparing with her own memories and thinking what version was better.

"Hello, Gryvon", - the woman said finally. And that simple short phrase suddenly almost convinced him it wasn't a dream. It would be too cruel for a dream – giving him such a mercy.

"You came back…", - he breathed out, standing where he was, not able to come closer.

"I…", - she was going to answer, but suddenly the Eyestone on her belt, which Gryvon hadn't noticed, started working.

"Regent, Regent, is everything all right? – He heard fast woman's voice through interference. - What is there, behind that doorway? Regent, can you hear me?"

Looking at Ashka and the Eyestone, Gryvon felt his shock wasn't finished yet. Regent?

"I am fine, Leah, - the woman answered, still watching him, - leave the Eyestone where it is and hide in the cave or under trees. Here there is one of the parallel worlds I told you about".

"Regent, do you need help?"

"No, just do as I said. If the doorway is closed, we will need you".

"We?" – Leah he didn't see was surprised.

"Yes, we, - Ashka confirmed, - it seems a serious talk is waiting for me…"

With these words she closed her Eyestone, walking to Gryvon.

"You…"

"Yes. I am a Regent".

"But that means…", - he raised his head, looking at the sparks above the Tower.

"That there's a world like this one, - Ashka confirmed, - they are identical. Same Spellbinders, same peasants. The same Clayhill".

"But this is…"

"This is possible, Gryvon".

Pause.

"Wait, in this case, - the young man said, - there should be we too. We both! And there's second you?"

Ashka frowned a little.

"And this is where you're wrong…, - brushing her wet hair from her face, she took the young man's hand and led him to the trees, - come on, we have something to talk about…"

Her fingers, long, strong and warm, squeezed his wrist. And that was the last note, the missing moment he needed to believe everything was real indeed…

"I… I wanted to say so much… but I really have no idea how to do it after the story like this", - Gryvon said, listening to her. The story was impressive indeed; there were enough adventures for several lives. Ashka described the Land of the Dragon Lord for him, where she had been and where she'd almost started a revolution. She described the world of Doubles, identical to the world of Kathy and Josh. She also told about Sun, the underage ruler and quite spoiled boy, which had sent the boat to a dimension she had chosen. And left her there. The world was rather strange. Moriol, so it was called, was a kind of a huge farm. Only not just geese and chickens were farmed there. A small group of people was breeding… dragons.

"When I've heard that roar for the first time, standing somewhere near a river, with the powersuit in my hands, I felt scared, - Ashka confessed, - as scared as I had never felt before".

She wasn't cunning, saying it. Or describing the impressions that strange world had given. Everybody, coming to that part of Moriol, had to learn how to take care of the dragons. And how to ride them.

"The first time wasn't very successful, - only now he noticed a pale pink scar, like a fine thread, on her cheekbone.

"Did it do this?" – Gryvon turned around, looking at the dragon rolled itself up into a ball near the Tower.

"No, Harley is peaceful, - Ashka shook her head, - he looks this way but he's harmless. At first I had another one".

Harley had been a dragon, left at the farm out of pity. And because nobody wanted to deal with it. The thing was, as Moriol residents told her, that the dragon was born half-deaf. It was practically unable to understand commands. It didn't hear them. And who knows, what could be the creature's future, but Ashka decided to take care of it. Moriolian water dragon, so its breed was called, couldn't get used to a new owner for quite long time. But in six months it couldn't stand anybody else.

And then scholar Meck, wishing to see as many parallel worlds as it was possible and now everything about them, came to that very dimension by chance. Dragons had been worshipped in his world, so the scientist became interested. So Ashka met her old familiars for the second time…

It was Meck who made the whistle Ashka was wearing on her neck now. Planning to go back to his world, he gave the device to the Spellbinder. The jangle, strange for human's ear, somehow was attracting the half-deaf dragon, making it obey. Deciding to test the device, Ashka flew to the sky on Harley's back.

"And then there was a misunderstanding as it had already happened in their country, - the woman said, - firstly, Harley and I flew to the boat waves coverage area. And secondly…, - she laughed, - that was something I called a misunderstanding".

They all were moved – Meck, his assistants – two young men, the boat, Ashka and the stolen dragon. And they found themselves… in Spellbinders' world. But not the same world they had seen before. Facing such situation before, Ashka didn't understand it at first. Only later, when screaming people were dashing aside from her; when on her way to the castle some scared peasants tried to seize her, and the dragon, not liking their attempts to attack, tried to drive everybody away, roaring and chattering with its fangs and almost swallowing several idlers; later, when Gareth appeared, riding a white horse, alive and unharmed, and they looked at each other with horror, Ashka realized the misunderstanding was bigger than she could imagine. She felt dizzy suddenly… And the last thing she knew was Gareth's shout and strangely long falling from Harley's back…

…The world where she appeared, was identical to the Spellbinders' one. Another world of Doubles, as she concluded. All people, all places – everything was the same, apart from some differences, of course.

"You asked about second us, Gryvon, - Ashka sighed, - once they had lived there, but the day I had offered my Apprentice Gryvon to pilot a ship, I hadn't worn the powersuit. And as you know your powerstones got depleted… So they got smashed up in the ship".

She kept silent for a moment.

"The castle had been in mourning. All these years Gareth was chairing the Council. I don't want to think what he was feeling, seeing me on the dragon. I don't want… but I know. I felt the same".

Pause again. Putting on her cloak hood, Ashka watched the rain and the flashes of lightnings from under the trees.

"He gave you the place in the Council", - Gryvon wasn't asking, he knew. Founding his foster daughter for the second time, Regent didn't make his previous mistakes. Even this late, even in a different world, but her dream had come true.

The woman nodded.

"It is a strange feeling, Gryvon, - she said, - strange and amazing. When you have almost everything. When you don't need to have revenge. Some weird calmness".

He smiled, understanding. Sometimes he felt the same, though he'd never tried to name this feeling. She did it for him.

"You say "almost"…"

The woman lowered her head.

"I felt guilty towards the parents of that, second Gryvon. On the one hand, I did nothing wrong. On the other hand – it was my fault. They still mourn him…"

"And here my father died, - Gryvon said, - nearly in six months after…"

He didn't say "after that story", but she understood.

"Gryvon…"

"Ashka, I can't stand it anymore. I thought about it so often, wanted to tell you so much, - he continued, fiddling with his cloak laces and feeling as a stupid child again, - that day, in the forest… Well, it wasn't what it seemed. Everything you saw…, - Holly Regents, why he can't choose the words? - Nathia had always been just a friend of mine. Yes, we understood each other, but that was long ago, - he smiled wryly, - it's gone now. Oh, I don't know what to do with it, - he felt not just as a stupid boy, but as a real fool, - I told you about my adventures, but I have no idea how to tell about this…"

He thought she would interrupt his words; just like in good old days, that he'd get a lot of caustic comments about eloquence is not in the list of Gryvon's talents. But nothing like it was happening. Many things had changed in those five years. And Gryvon, aware of his own changes, could still hardly believe that the woman in front of him was able to change too.

"I said that I would think just to get rid of her. In fact… well, I know it is stupid and useless – for me to think of such things…"

In the name of Regents, why, oh, why can't he choose these damned proper words? And why, despite his awkward attempts to express his thoughts, she's still looking at him like that?

"I know that I can't, I never could ask for too much. And you would never be able to give me too much. But after years of being your Apprentice I learned to appreciate those precious moments, which were making us closer. I was happy to be with you. I was even happy, trying to overthrow the Council! I was ready to leave everyone and everything, I swear, just…"

There was drumming in his ears. Somewhere near him the weather was storming, Whiteleg was standing under the tree, a dragon with a strange name Harley was sitting next to the Tower obediently. Electric sparks were rushing through the sky. But for now he didn't care about all of this. Even Leah that he didn't see, a copy of the Spellbinder from their castle, he was sure, didn't bother him now…

"…just to see a smile on your face, - Gryvon finished his phrase. In his thoughts he'd been saying it for so many times, making each detail perfect, and in reality everything was wet and awkward, - I don't know, maybe I am insane, and you will disappear, so everything will be just a product of my imagination…, - pulling himself together, he took a step to her, - Ashka, I am not a gift person. We both are not. We made many mistakes, and we wanted to make even more. Sometimes I considered you as the most impossible, rude, evil, too stubborn and caustic person. But at the same time…, - raising his hand, he touched her cheekbone gently, tracing the fine scar with his fingertips, - you've always been the most amazing woman and the greatest happiness of my life. And I… I love you".

Not waiting for words that were to follow, he leant down, kissing her with a light, almost weightless kiss. There was a flash of lightning somewhere above… The hood slipped down from Spellbinder's head. Feeling it, Gryvon got another chance to touch this breathtakingly amazing hair. And Ashka… she kissed him in respond. Slowly, carefully, as if she wasn't trusting herself, thawing slowly after the constant tension in her body and soul. Her face was wet – either the raindrops, or the tears were running down her cheeks. Surprised, Gryvon felt the same thing with himself. And he wasn't very sure of the rain.

"Thank you", - the woman whispered finally, stepping back a little.

"For what?" – Gryvon didn't expect it.

"For saying it, - Ashka answered, - for giving me a chance to feel,,, necessary. I thought it would never happen".

Instead of answering he kissed her again. She was not just necessary for him. She was the most wonderful and beloved for him. His ginger fairy that won the heart of a young boy. He tore the lace on his wrist.

"What is it?" – Ashka gave a start, feeling cold metal on her skin.

"A symbol of our reunion, - the young man said, putting the ring on her finger, - I've found it at Valaphire six months ago. Seems like it was waiting for you…"

She looked at her hand, almost hypnotized, at so dear and beautiful shining silver ring… It seemed all the words became silly that very moment. He smiled, watching her reaction and feeling that only now the comfort in his soul was really healing.

"Thank you… But Gryvon, I can not stay here, you know it, - the Spellbinder said at last, - here I am a fugitive. Five years could hardly change something; my status will be the same".

"I know", - he nodded, still embracing her.

"There, behind this doorway, - she looked at the sparks above the Tower, - is a world I get used to see. The world where my life looks as I would like'.

"I know this too, - he nodded, - that means you will vanish again…"

Ashka smiled. Just like in good old days, when Apprentice Gryvon was saying something extremely stupid during a lesson.

"That means I offer you to go with me. The doorway between our worlds was opened by chance, when the lightnings struck both Clayhill Towers at the same time. We were given this chance, so we used it, - the woman touched Gryvon's cheek, - remove the Eyestones – and the doorway will be closed. I won't come back…"

He didn't need to be told anymore.

"Ashka, I accept, - his palm covered hers, - my family is dead here. I am empty and unnecessary in the castle. Nothing is keeping me here for a while".

He squeezed her fingers gently.

"I am ready", - the young man repeated. Suddenly they heard the Eyestone on Ashka's belt.

"Regent, Regent, this is Leah! They are going to send people from the castle here, everyone is worried where you are".

"I am all right, Leah! – Ashka smiled, looking at Gryvon. - We come back!"

"We?"

"Yes, I am accompanied".

Gryvon understood it was time for him to act. Running from under the trees, he reached the Tower. Opened the Eyestone that was still waiting for him.

"Riana, this is Gryvon, answer me!"

He waited, afraid that the device could get too wet. Waited and hoped to succeed. Nothing was heard from there, except interference. But then finally:

"Gryvon, I hear you. What's the matter? Where are you? Spellbinders are getting crazy here! They waited you for a supper!"

"Riana, listen to me, there will be no supper, - leaning down in order to prevent the wind and rain interrupting them, he spoke, - I'm leaving. Forever".

"What do you mean? – Riana was shocked. - Gryvon, are you insane? Where to?"

"To a parallel world! From Clayhill!"

There was a pause in the Eyestone.

"Gryvon, are you serious?" – The girl asked, hesitating.

"Absolutely, - he nodded, forgetting she couldn't see him, - I got the best birthday present ever, - she looked at Ashka putting on the cloak hood again, took her hand, - Riana, say goodbye to everybody for me. And look after my drawings, please. And yes, my horse is here…"

One more pause.

"All right, Gryvon, - it seemed Riana was smiling, - be happy. And farewell".

"Farewell".

Closing the Eyestone, he left it where it was, aware that the doorway above the Tower depended on it. Carefully, supervised by Ashka, he came closer to the dragon. The Spellbinder whistled several times.

"Easy, Harley, this is Gryvon. We take him with us".

The dragon leant down suspiciously, taking in the air with its nostrils. Only now Gryvon noticed the creature wasn't black, it was dark-blue, with beautiful shining skin, reminding him of fish scales a little. Clutching the chain, they climbed up on Harley's back.

"Hold on tight", - Ashka ordered, putting on the helmet and bringing the whistle to her lips.

Gryvon grasped her powersuit belt, waiting for very unpleasant feelings. He was sure he'd either fall down, or would be very close to it. But strangely enough, there was no thrusts, no jolting, and no falling. It seemed the half-deaf dragon Harley felt one of the riders was inexperienced, so it flew up with grace, unusual for such an enormous creature. Opening his eyes that were closed, Gryvon saw they were flying. There were two wide wings on both sides, and the trees and the Tower became suddenly funny and small. The feeling was weird. It was nothing like flying a ship. Not so realistic. And not so impressive.

Whistling again, Ashka forced Harley to turn right. The dragon lowered a little. Now the doorway made of mist and sparks, laid right in front of them… Gryvon kept watching the sparks, not going to close his eyes this time, but to see and feel what it was like – going to a parallel world. He had no idea; he could only guess what was there, behind. What second Clayhill was like. He tried to imagine what will be in his and Ashka's future, how this turn will look like, starting a new story. He'd never asked for too much. She'd never offered too much. But they can try. Try to begin this story together. And deep in his soul Gryvon was sure – after the seventeen years he'd known this woman, their try was fated to be successful…

**The end. **

**5.05.12 **


End file.
